


Deep Roads

by Miajah



Series: Rumours [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, Betrayal, Biting, Bloodplay, Canonical Character Death, Deep Roads, F/M, Mean Cullen, Mean Varric, More angst, Prequel, Qunari, Size Kink, Smut, Suicide Attempt, Survival
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2018-05-29 16:38:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 16
Words: 41,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6384223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miajah/pseuds/Miajah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawke wasn't much for the whole altruistic people's champion thing and after crawling out of the Deep Roads her life went south quickly. Unhappy with what had returned from the expedition, the Arishok threatens the safety of Kirkwall to ensure Hawke remains with him, pushing her friends to do things they may regret.</p><p>Prequel to Silly Little Rumours.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She smiled at the thought, exploring and adventuring without the constraints of responsibility, like a child’s story.

It took Grae Hawke a long time to get together enough money to buy her way into Bartrand’s venture into the Deep Roads. Fifty sovereigns. _Fifty_. Fifty Sovereigns of crawling through sewers, getting ambushed by Tal’Vashoth, doing favours for nobles and just about every citizen of Kirkwall. Solving mysteries and crime? The Hawke girls are on the case. Need something delivered? No worries! Need riff raff cleared out of the sewers? What the hell are they even down there for anyway? Surely there is no one else down there to rob. Do they actually have to live down there? It’s not like crime isn’t prevalent enough to go unnoticed among the rest of the gangs and – never mind. As long as it pays.

She had built quite a reputation in Lowtown and Darktown and picked up new companions that she was becoming attached to. Varric decided to stick around for the most part, she wasn’t sure why at first, she thought he might have just been bored but as they walked the streets she realised that he knew just about everyone they came across and was keeping tabs on at least half of them. As dangerous as some of the alleyways were, Varric would always talk about Kirkwall like it was his family, making it sound like somewhere people might actually _want_ to visit.

It was so satisfying to watch Bartrand’s expression as she handed over the money and Varric told him that she’s the new business partner. Hawke knew that Varric really enjoyed it too, their sibling rivalry quite clearly off the scale. They had just made it, barely one day left before the expedition was due to leave, Bethany was a ball of excitement beside her as Varric congratulated them, his charming smile radiating over everyone in the courtyard.  
  
“Well,” he said proudly, “Looks like the Hawke girls have made it. Made a hell of an impact on the city doing it too.” Hawke snorted as Bethany squealed and hugged Varric who was well prepared for the onslaught. “Let’s have a send off at the Hanged Man tonight. Make sure you pack beforehand though, you’ll need to be prepared.” He petted Bethany on her back before directing her away from him and into Hawke who was not as prepared and had to step back as Bethany lumped into her arms.  
  
“I can’t believe it.” Bethany cried happily. “We _actually_ did it.” Hawke looked down at her and nodded, her sister smiling so brightly reminded Hawke of when they were children, playing together with Carver as they ran through the farms with their toy swords, their mother and father watching from the house. Hawke blinked back the memory as Bethany straightened up, remembering her composure, acting ladylike as their mother always insisted.  
  
“You’re not smiling Hawke.” Varric said with a wry grin. “You should be proud of what you’ve done.” Hawke chuckled, running her hand through her loose hair.  
  
“I’ll be smiling when we crawl out with the loot.” Hawke said as they began their way to Lowtown, avoiding Templars and thieves alike.

The Hanged Man was a great establishment, as long as you knew to keep your coin purse tucked into your breast band and didn’t mind the stench of piss and ale, not that you could tell the difference between the two. Bethany walked straight upstairs to where Varric had his quarters, a permanent residence for him and a great place to play some Wicked Grace, while Hawke walked to the bar. Corff the bartender looked at her expectantly and she held up two fingers, Corff nodded and went to fill two tankards of ale, simultaneously yelling at his girls who were waiting on the tables. Hawke felt a hand on her shoulder and looked to see Aveline taking up the empty space next to her, she smiled and bowed her head to her friend who gestured to Corff to add another tankard to the order.  
  
“A City Guard in this sort of establishment?” Hawke teased. “It beggars belief.”  
  
“This sort of place is exactly where the guard is needed.” Aveline threw down a coin as Corff approached with the three beers. “And yet most of the time we are never to be seen.” She had been becoming increasingly frustrated with how Kirkwall’s guard had been handled. Hawke smiled at her friend, she had always been unrelenting when it came to duty, something that Hawke couldn’t find in herself. Not that she needed to, if the expedition went well then she wouldn’t have to worry for a long time.  
  
“Aveline, I think Kirkwall would fall into the ocean if you weren’t here to hold her back.” Hawke said without a trace of sarcasm. Aveline smiled and laughed at the compliment, unsure of how to receive one since most of her day involved fighting and being verbally abused. Hawke fished a coin out of her breast band and placed it on the bar before picking up the tankards and walking towards the stairs that led to the upper rooms.  
  
“I heard you got into the expedition.” Aveline said behind her. “I’m surprised your mother didn’t stop you at the last minute. Does she know how dangerous it will be?”  
  
“I gave her a vague idea.” Hawke said and shivered, remembering the expression on her mother’s face as they told her, her worry barely concealed.  
  
“Will Bethany be going?” Aveline asked as they reached the base of the stairs and slowly ascended.  
  
“She is insistent.” Hawke sighed. “She has worked hard to get us this far, it is only fair I bring her, but…” Hawke stopped halfway up the stairs and Aveline paused beside her, taking a tentative sip of her ale before pulling a face. “I have my doubts, Aveline.”  
  
“You think she will not be able to defend herself?” Aveline asked quietly, as if the subject of their conversation could hear over the crowd and across the building.  
  
“I _know_ she can fight. And she has improved greatly since we left Lothering. But something is nagging at the back of my mind. If I take her and something happens I’m not sure if I could take it, but if I leave her and the Templars get a hold of her, if they take her to the Circle.” Hawke growled in frustration. There had been a lot of close calls with the Templars, and the rumours that she was hearing about how they treated the mages in the Kirkwall Circle made her skin crawl.  
  
“At least if she is by our side we can protect her.” Aveline said as she began to climb the stairs again. Hawke stared after her, confused.  
  
“Wait. _We?_ ” Hawke called after her friend and rushed the first few stairs to catch up. “You’re coming with me? What about the Guard?” Aveline glanced back at her and frowned.  
  
“Hawke, you rescued me from darkspawn and helped me make a home here. You honestly think I’m going to let you crawl into the blight damned Deep Roads without me?” Aveline let out a short laugh. “I’ve already packed and sent my equipment to the expedition workers as a part of your troupe.” Hawke paused again at the top of the stairs, she was dumbfounded. She was going to ask tonight who would be receptive to coming with her, knowing full well that no one was particularly keen to do so. That someone would be so adamant to put themselves in danger for her made her feel both guilty and elated. Hawke must have had a pitiful expression on her face because Aveline sighed impatiently and put her free arm around Hawke’s shoulders, pulling her into a quick hug that screamed _get over it_.  
  
“Aveline-“ Hawke began, unsure on how to express her gratitude.  
  
“Just buy the next round.” Aveline said before smiling and striding into Varrics quarters, a chorus of cheers emanating from the open door as she made her entrance. Hawke laughed to herself before rounding the corner to see her friends gathered around the large table who cheered for her in the same manner as they did for Aveline.  
  


A few hours and many rounds later Hawke was suitably drunk. She stood and wandered out to the small balcony that looked over an alley, accidentally bumping into Fenris who just grunted at her over-enthusiastic apology. She breathed the fresh air in deeply, listening to the dull roar that drifted up from the main part of the Tavern. She was nervous, thinking about the expedition, when they had been trying to get together the money it had seemed almost impossible, just another part of the fantasy of getting their estate and titles back. Restoring the _pride_ of the Amell name. Hawke snorted at the thought, even with money and a title she doubted she had the mentality to be a noble.

She certainly wouldn’t be married off, not that she thought her mother would suggest it especially since she had run away from an arranged marriage and into the arms of her apostate father. No, she would reinstate the name for the sake of her family and once they are comfortable for the rest of their lives, she would go explore Thedas.

She smiled at the thought, exploring and adventuring without the constraints of responsibility, like a child’s story. Two hands grasped the railing beside her and she steadily looked up and saw Anders smiling at her before leaning on the railing.  
  
“Are you ready for the Roads Hawke?” he said, slurring slightly. She hummed in affirmation and smiled, nodding her head. He shook his head a little in disbelief, smiling brilliantly at her, his feather pauldrons ruffling in the slight breeze and Hawke automatically reached up to run her hands through them.  
  
“That’s a lot of birds.” She muttered, mostly to herself, Anders laughed and gently picked her hand up, cradling it in hers.  
  
“Hawke, if you want me to go with you, I will.” Hawke frowned at her hand in his before looking up at him in confusion. Her alcohol addled mind happy that he was holding her hand, as if she were a teenager on her first date. “I know I said I didn’t want to go, Maker knows that I’m happy never to see that damned place again.” Hawke nodded, mostly following the conversation, she remembered that he was there once as a Grey Warden before escaping from them. “But if you need me, I will go.”

Hawke looked up at him, something in his words, or the way he said it, had more meaning than she had realised. She blinked, staring at the stubble that graced his face and the way his lips curved, almost pouting, his blond hair tied back casually was beginning to come loose, tucked back behind his ear. Hawke brought her hand up to pinch his ear lobe, he made a pained sound as she inspected the small hole where an earring once was.  
  
“Anders, you’ve got your ear pierced?” she squealed and began laughing. “You _rebel_.” He joined her in her laughing, trying to pry her grip from his lobe.  
  
“Hawke- you’re maddening. I was trying to ask you a serious question.” He chuckled and pulled her closer by her hands, putting on a stern face that broke momentarily with giggles. “If you need me, for anything, you know I’m here. Right?” She paused, it was definitely a loaded question.

She would admit that she found him attractive, infuriating in the right way and got along with him well. His caring side appealed to her and his smile weakened her knees just about every time. The only issue being his obsession with freeing mages and, of course, the whole possessed by a cranky spirit of justice thing. Her heart thudded at their proximity, she had tried to think of a time since Lothering that she had been this close to a man without dealing a death blow, coming up blank.

Two years of letting out her frustration on criminals and mercenaries certainly took its toll and she fought to keep her composure, biting her lip to ground herself. _For fuck sake Hawke, get it together. He’s just holding your fucking hands._ She smiled at him, and gently wriggled free of his grasp.  
  
“Thank you, Anders.” She said breathily and he smiled sweetly at her. “But Aveline has already sent her equipment ahead of her, and quite frankly I’d rather have a giant shield attached to an angry woman between me and the darkspawn.” Anders laughed, taking no offence. “Besides, I cannot be selfish and take you from Kirkwall. The good you do here-“  
  
“Can wait.” He interrupted, lifting her chin with a crooked finger. “I would put your selfishness above Kirkwall if you requested it.” Hawke blushed and smiled, looking away.  
  
“That’s not like you, you’re usually so _altruistic_.” She purred, leaning back on the railing again. He mirrored her stance, looking away.  
  
“I’m not.” He said quietly. “But I’m glad you think so.” Laughing he quickly picked up her hand and brushed it against his lips, kissing delicately along her knuckles. Hawke’s breath hitched at the contact and Anders stood just as quickly, walking backwards into the room again.

“If you don’t come back soon,” he said to her just before he crossed the door frame into the room, “I’ll come down to the Deep Roads and drag you out myself.” She laughed before following him back in, saying goodbye to each of her friends in turn.

 

The next morning saw Hawke, Varric, Bethany and Aveline in the courtyard where the expedition was gathering, watching Bartrand posture to his employees and laying down the law. Hawke was armed to the teeth with her two daggers, which were more the length of a short sword, strapped in a harness on her back, a dagger in each boot, throwing knives strapped on her wrists, a short dagger in a sheath strapped to her thigh and some homemade knockout powder bombs on her belt. Her armour had been newly repaired and reinforced with a soft lining to keep her warm and even though she was sweating under the clear sky surrounded by the Kirkwall stone she knew that outside of the city and underground would be much cooler. Additional clothes and necessities were in a pack that had been loaded onto a wagon along with her companion’s packs.

Bethany stood beside her fidgeting as she watched Bartrand rant and rave about leaving traitors and slackers underground, she had her robe repaired also and at Hawke’s insistence was wearing a bodice made of flexible leather underneath the robe. Hawke also strapped two short sheaths onto Bethany’s forearms for some daggers, Bethany had protested but the stubborn look Hawke gave her had quickly put an end to the protesting. The base of Bethany’s staff ground into the cobblestones as she leaned on it for support, sighing she looked to Hawke who just looked grim at the prospect of spending months with an asshole as a leader.

Bethany grasped at Hawke’s arm, causing her to look at her sister questioningly, following Bethany’s gaze she saw their mother, Leandra, approaching the group. Bartrand made some disparaging comment as Hawke strode up, guiding her mother away from the group with Bethany in tow.  
  
“We don’t have time for your family domestic.” Bartrand snarled to Hawke’s back. “We’re leaving in five minutes with or without you.” _Maker preserve me I’m going to kill him already_ she thought.  
  
“Mother,” Bethany asked when they were out of earshot of the group. “What happened? Are you alright?” They had already said their goodbyes at their Uncle Gamlen’s house barely an hour beforehand. Leandra looked at her two daughters and took their hands in each of her own, she looked pleadingly at Hawke, who felt her stomach churn.  
  
“Please reconsider this.” Leandra said, her voice quavering. “I understand _you_ wanting to go. You’ve always been quick to suit that kind of life. But, _please_ , leave your sister here.”  
  
“ _Mother._ ” Bethany protested, looking between her mother and a grim looking Hawke. “I’m going with Grae. We worked hard to get here and I’m not-“  
  
“It’s so dangerous, Beth.” Leandra interrupted, tears threatening her eyes. “I’ve already lost Carver, I can’t lose you as well. If the two of you didn’t come home…” Leandra let go of Hawke’s hand to retrieve a handkerchief and dab at her eyes. Hawke’s heart twisted and she watched her mother, her doubts about the expedition coming to the front of her mind again.  
  
“And what about Grae? You’re asking me to stay and not her?” Bethany said incredulously.  
  
“Grae is a _fighter_ , Bethany. She grew up protecting you. I know I can’t persuade her to stay, but I’m hoping,” Leandra looked into Hawke’s eyes “I’m _praying_ that she’ll protect you again.” Hawke winced and looked away as Leandra grasped her hand again. “Please, on your word, promise me you will. She _can’t_ go. She’s not like you.” Hawke sighed and took her mother’s hand in both of hers.  
  
“And what happens when the Templars come and neither I nor Aveline are here?” Hawke said quietly, Leandra tried to answer but no sounds escaped her. “Because you know they’re getting closer to her. We barely convinced them to leave last time. If that Templar hadn’t been corrupt-“ Hawke stopped and bit her lip, glancing around the courtyard for anyone who might be listening. “I know you’re worried Mother, but Aveline and I can protect her better when we’re with her.” Tears started running down Leandra’s cheek and Hawke pulled her into a hug, sobbing, her mother clutched to Hawke’s armour.  
  
“Grae, please-“ Leandra cried against her daughter as Bethany embraced her from behind making comforting sounds.  
  
“I’m not a child anymore.” Bethany whispered. “It’s time I stopped being a burden on our family, I cannot stay in hiding forever.”  
  
“We’ll come back, Mother.” Hawke added. “And when we do we’ll have a fortune, from our mansion in Hightown, no one will be able to take Bethany.” Hawke met Bethany’s gaze and they smiled sadly at each other, they knew that even as a noble Bethany would have to be cautious, if she was ever discovered the only thing to keep her from the Templars would be death. Leandra stood and composed herself, wiping at her face with the handkerchief. “It’s Beth’s choice. I can’t make this decision for her.” Hawke said sullenly, Leandra nodded and looked to Bethany who smiled sadly at her, resolute in her decision to go on the expedition.  
  
“Promise me you’ll bring her home safely Grae.” Leandra whispered and Hawke was internally screaming with guilt.  
  
“Promise.” She said as she hugged her mother goodbye before stepping away to allow Bethany to do the same. Leandra watched her daughters return to the expedition as they began to make their way out of the city, waving at them she stayed until they were out of sight.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A surprised gasp hitched in her throat as she rested against him, the warmth penetrating her clothes and helping her shivering subside, although honestly she couldn’t tell if the warmth was from him, or from the blush creeping up her cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short-ish one for you, in apology I will post more tomorrow night. :)

Hawke had always been sensitive to the cold, as a child she was always close to the fire bundled up and as an adult she hadn’t improved much. Hawke knew to be prepared before heading down into the Deep Roads, without sunlight some parts were bound to be freezing, unless they come across a lava pit; she had asked Varric if it were possible to find lava and he just laughed and said “ _Anything is possible, maybe we could push my brother in it._ ”

So even with her layers of warm clothes, her leather armour and laying her bedroll by the small fire, Hawke still shivered uncontrollably through her first few nights of the expedition. As they descended further into the underground the air grew repressive and colder. They passed through chambers where the air was so heavy she could imagine that they were the first people to breathe it in centuries which lead to her stomach knotting in anxiety over just how much oxygen would be available.

Bethany would often get distracted by the stonework and statues of paragons, running her hand delicately over its ridges and wiping off decades of dust. Bodhan, a merchant-turned-adventurer who was supplying the expedition would help her out with naming some of the paragons, but the further in they delved the less he could name, which gave Bethany the opportunity to create names and backstories for each statue to pass the time.  
  
“You know Bethany, the stories you’re giving them are probably a lot more interesting than what actually happened.” Hawke said after a few hours of listening to her sister prattle, six days and it had definitely begun to annoy her. Bethany glanced back and glared.  
  
“Nothing wrong with embellishing the stories Hawke. Most of our history has bits and pieces that aren’t quite the truth, but we remember it better because it’s a good yarn.” Varric piped in from behind, he sauntered up while brushing some dirt off his gloves. “Just look at the Chantry, they are one of the most powerful groups in Thedas, wholly created on a story.”  
  
“Don’t you believe in the Maker, Varric?” Bethany asked.  
  
“Naw Sunshine, I’m not having a go at anyone’s god.” He said raising his hands before he was dragged into a religious debate, “I just find the story of Andraste to be _very_ well written. And if stories like that can give the people what they need to get by then I’m all for it.”  
  
“Well,” she said with a bit of a huff. “You are at least more open than Grae. She firmly believes that Andraste was crazy.” Hawke raised her hand to her chest in mock shock.  
  
“You wound me sister! I have never said such a thing.” Hawke turned to Varric who was watching her clearly amused by her performance. “All I said was that everyone has had that day where the mead was a little too fermented and you end up naked on a rock proclaiming your undying love to a god.” Varric chuckled while Bethany made a disgusted noise and walked a little faster to distance herself.  
  
“I can picture you doing that.” Hawke smiled as Varric created a mental image.  
  
“Are you imagining me naked Tethras?” Hawke purred teasingly and Varric laughed.  
  
“I always had a weakness for redheads.” He retorted, giving her an obvious wink. “What’s your honest opinion though? Does Grae Hawke believe in the Maker?” Varric raised his hands and shook them as he said _the Maker_ , lowering his voice an octave to give dramatic effect. “Or are you one of those _I’ll pray to him when I’m in bed_ women?” Varric waggled his eyebrows at her and Hawke could barely hold her laughter in. She paused for a moment weighing her answer between years of attending the Chantry in Lothering and what she had learned in life when an inhuman screech echoed through the stone.  
  
“I don’t know,” Hawke answered as she drew her daggers and began to signal the workers to gather together so they could be protected from the incoming darkspawn. “But I’d rather not learn the truth today.”  
  
“I hear that.” Varric proclaimed as he hoisted his crossbow Bianca and readied her with a jolt of his shoulders.

 

A week in and they still hadn’t found the thaig they were looking for. They decided to make camp in an intact chamber that looked over a chasm. A few small torches were lit on the walls but the group decided to forego a fire, having encountered darkspawn relatively close they didn’t want to risk camping directly on the road or giving away their position just in case there was another viewpoint from somewhere along the chasm. They were getting far down into the deep roads now, the stonework was beginning to change and a soft glow permeated the vast space.  
  
“Lava.” Varric told her while waggling his eyebrows. Although _where_ the damn lava was Hawke had no idea because it was still freezing, especially once they stopping moving.  
  
After eating some dried ram meat Hawke took her bedroll to the wall of the chamber, equally away from the entrance and the chasm and lied down. Wrapping herself up in her blanket she squeezed her eyes against the cold and willingly thought about the oppressive Kirkwall heat bouncing off the stone buildings and roads onto her skin.  
  
Varric walked over and lined up his bedroll against hers, he threw his blanket over to cover Hawke and settled next to her.  
  
“Varric?” Hawke asked through shivering, a little torn between her friendship boundaries being pushed and the furnace of warmth radiating off of the dwarf.  
  
“Hawke, if I have to listen to your teeth chattering all night I’m going to go mad. You’re so fatigued that you’re not watching your flanks anymore, damn near got sliced in half by that ugly darkspawn.” Varric was bitterly recalling the last skirmish, compounded by nights of listening to Hawke shift and shiver. Hawke was stunned for a moment, unsure of what to do, and then decided to take the same approach as she always has in confronting situations. Be a jackass.  
  
“I don’t need to watch my flanks Varric, that’s what I’ve got _you_ for.” She drawled, rolling over to face him, though she was really just getting closer to his warmth. He fussed with the two blankets to evenly spread them across the both of them before settling on his back and letting out a sigh. His feet were just above Hawke’s knees and it was then that Hawke really noticed the height difference.  
  
“Can’t watch them all the time. Even if I do love admiring your flanks in action.” He sarcastically whispered and Hawke stifled a giggle, trying not to disturb the others.  
  
“I knew it.” She whispered back as she poked at his shoulder. He rolled his head to look at her and saw Hawke’s usual mischievous look accented with dark shadows falling across her face and the torchlight glinting in her eyes. “This is a part of your game, your _ruse_ if you will. To get me into bed…roll.” He snorted at that and smiled despite his fatigue creeping up on him.  
  
“I’m not sure if Bianca would welcome the competition.” He yawned, quickly covering his mouth so his friend wouldn’t get an eye full.  
  
“She would revel in it.” Hawke said matter-of-factly. “She watches my flanks closer than you, Master Tethras, maybe _she_ is the mastermind here.” He chuckled quietly and lifted his arm and scooped Hawke closer, somewhat inadvertently pulling her face to rest on his chest. A surprised gasp hitched in her throat as she rested against him, the warmth penetrating her clothes and helping her shivering subside, although honestly she couldn’t tell if the warmth was from him, or from the blush creeping up her cheeks.

She hadn’t thought of Varric that way, not really, but then again she had never lied next to him, in the dark, sharing blankets, while he wrapped his arm around her and Maker’s balls she was overthinking everything, how the hell did he think that she could go to sleep like this? Why does he smell like a mixture of spices and rain? They haven’t bathed in a week. _Oh Andraste how badly did she smell?_ A silence fell between them and Hawke fought to control her breathing and act normal. Varric, naturally already half asleep, rolled over and flung his other arm carelessly over her waist, closing the gap between them further.  
  
“Varric-“ Hawke tried to whisper, but it came out far too breathy and just a bit suggestive, her blush blazed into life and why the hell did she say anything, _act natural damnit_.  
  
“Shut up, Hawke.” Was the reply she got.  
  


Varric woke up early as usual, he never could see the point of staying in a sleeping when there was work to be done. Of course if he was hungover than it was another story but this morning he was blissfully headache free. He stretched and felt the weight of a limb across his abdomen, struggling to open his eyes he caught glimpses of deep red hair splayed across his chest, mussed and falling out of a what once was tied back hair. _Well_ he thought to himself, _no headache and apparently you made a friend last night, not bad Tethras._ He stretched again, his bed unusually hard, it was still dark in his room, his mind thought that unusual for a split second before deciding he could probably forego the manifests gathering on his desk until dawn.

Stretching to get more comfortable he gathered the leg that was sprawled across his stomach and raised it higher as he rolled towards his new friend. Once comfortable he gently ran his hand along the expanse of her leg, inhaling the scent of her hair he could feel the pit of his stomach tighten in response, his hand continued up the curve of her behind, gently massaging through the bedsheet at her side. Feeling himself getting harder, her heat radiated onto him they were pressed together so intimately. He brought his hand up to cup at the side of her breast and she let out a stifled, sleep ridden moan. Varric smiled and opened his eyes, only to see a group of people milling around in his quarters.

_What._

No. Not his quarters, it took only a moment to remember the deep roads, looking at where his hand was he followed the curve of the body up to see hair, Hawke’s hair.

_Oh shit. Shit, shit, Maker’s fucking balls she’s going to kill me._

Varric pulled his hand away quickly face burning and gently lowered her leg off, he quickly untangled himself from the rest of her and sat up, spinning so his back was to her, sitting leg crossed with a blanket strategically placed over his crotch. Shifting to get comfortable without giving his predicament away he noticed the other Hawke sibling approaching furiously. _Oh shit._ She scowled and stopped in front of him.

 _Shit._  
  
“Varric.” That one word had all the displeasure she could muster laced on it.

 _Andraste’s tits she’s going to kill me in the deep roads and leave me to get eaten by the darkspawn_ , Varric managed a wary smile.  
  
“Morning Sunshine, how can I – uh – Help?”  
  
“Your brother is the rudest dwarf I’ve ever met.” She said in a huff.  
  
“Oh. Uh. Yes, he does manage to piss off everyone he meets.”  
  
“I’m glad you’re nicer than him. Anyway we need to get going. Can you wake Grae up? If I can avoid that I will, she’s not good at mornings.”  She turned to leave and Varric’s reply was barely a squeak.  
  
“Sure, no problem, I can do that.”  He muttered as Bethany turned to stride away in a cloud of aggravation, heading to pack her equipment up.

Varric looked down at Grae, she was still sleeping soundly, the blanket bunched up in her arms as she used it for a pillow, hugging it to her. He absently noted the way her eyelashes curved along her cheek, giving her a soft expression far from her usual demeanour. The glow of the room pooling on her pale skin giving a sharpness to her features, the shadows deeper around her parted lips as she breathed steadily. Varric sighed as he pulled himself away from his revere.   
  
_Don’t start._ He chastised himself, _This is not the time or place.  
  
_ “Hey,” he said quietly, placing his hand on her shoulder and shaking gently. “Wake up Grae-“ her hand flew up to grab his wrist before twisting it off her shoulder, with a cry Varric leaned forward as his arm was twisted, Hawke’s other hand on the outside of his elbow, pressuring his joint in a way it was not meant to bend.   
  
“ _Hawke! It’s me! Don’t fucking break my arm.”_ He shouted as Hawke glared at him, her hair falling over her face to partially cover eyes that didn’t recognise him. A few agonising seconds later Hawke slowly blinked, the pressure on his arm subsiding as she gently untwisted his arm and let go.  
  
“Maker, Varric.”  She mumbled, clearly still fighting with sleep. “m’sorry.” She rubbed Varric’s back in small, comforting apologetic circles as he made small pained noises and stretched out his assaulted limb. He shook his head, chuckling quietly before looking back at her.  
  
“That must be why Sunshine asked me to wake you up. Dammit Hawke, you always so untrusting?” She smiled tightly and scrubbed her eyes, pushing the mess of hair back from her face.  
  
“I’m still alive aren’t I?” she slurred and Varric snorted, taking in her bleary expression and twisted clothes.  
  
“I wouldn’t speak so soon.” He bit and Hawke frowned, slowly reaching for his wrist and arm again, he scooted away laughing before she could grab him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You were eight.” Varric said, a little angry. “As life lessons go, that’s a hell of a kick in the pants.” Hawke snorted a laugh before putting down the over polished boot.

When Bodhan had nervously asked them to look for his son Sandal while they were exploring for an alternative route, their current path blocked by a cave in, Hawke assumed that they would find Sandal cowering in a corner, if he hadn’t been killed by darkspawn that is. Bodhan explained to them that Sandal was a savant when it came to enchanting but could do little else, and likely didn’t understand the danger he was in. The last thing she expected was to find Sandal standing proudly among the corpses of a dozen darkspawn, scratching his ass in front of a very frozen, very dead, darkspawn ogre.  
  
“Well I’ll be damned.” Varric muttered at they stumbled upon the scene, Bethany walked up to Sandal and ran a healers eye over him, making sure he was unhurt. Hawke looked closely at the ogre, similar to the one who had killed her brother Carver, it was poised to grab something, likely poor sandal before being frozen in place. Even the drool hanging from it’s tooth had frozen into an icicle.  
  
“He’s unharmed.” Bethany said surprised. “Not a scratch on him.” She backed away warily and Hawke noticed Aveline’s hand twitch at her sword. Hawke shook her head at Aveline and the warrior forced herself to relax, even if Sandal had done this Hawke definitely didn’t want to be on the receiving end of it.  
  
“Sandal,” Hawke said quietly and he turned to face her, smiling as he usually did. “What did this?” Sandal made a happy sound in his throat.  
  
“Not enchantment.” He said smugly before toddling off back towards the camp.  
  
“So wrong.” Hawke said quietly as they watched him go. “So, _so_ wrong.” She shivered looking at the ogre before they followed Sandal back to Bodhan.  
  
  


Bodhan was thankful, hugging Hawke briefly before he remembered himself. Bethany stifled a giggle a her sister’s clear discomfort.  
  
“Thank you so much.” Bodhan said to Hawke while looking over his son. “We’re in your debt.”  
  
“I’m just glad he’s alright.” Hawke said, smiling.  
  
“Because of _you_.” Bodhan insisted. “You won’t regret this, I swear!” Hawke bowed her head to him and Bodhan began wiping Sandal’s face, cleaning the blood splatters off. Aveline piped up from behind Hawke.  
  
“Let’s get going. We need to find a way around.” She insisted as they turned to venture into the passageway again.

 

The darkspawn they faced were half starved remnants of the blight of over a year ago, they were easily cut down and Hawke did so happily, mostly catching the ones that avoided Aveline’s shield before they could reach Bethany or Varric. Hawke found that when she fought it was the basics she relied on the most rather than the more complicated routines, she had to conserve her energy down here, cut the enemy down and move onto the next one. Step, block, strike.

It wasn’t like fighting the mercenaries and bandits in Kirkwall, people had tactics and tricks regardless of their intelligence, but Darkspawn, they just swarmed and swung at you, hacking and thrusting desperate to rip you open. Step, block, strike. The skirmishes were broken apart only by ten minutes of climbing and stumbling in the dark and it felt like they were getting nowhere. With each kick and thrust Hawke was getting more and more tired, the blood splatter making her sticky and reek like rot.

Bethany took down the last Darkspawn in the area with a massive icicle that impaled the skeletal creature. Taking a moment Hawke squatted down and rested, panting and trying to force her heart rate to slow.  
  
“Can’t be much further.” Aveline said as she knelt next to Hawke and leaned against her shield for support. “We’ve been going for hours.”  
  
“That’s assuming that there _is_ another way around.” Hawke said bitterly. “There are no maps here, no markers for direction. Nothing but blighted Darkspawn crawling out of the walls and the darkness.” Hawke spat, “Maker. Why did I think it was a good idea coming here?” Aveline chuckled and put her hand on Hawke’s shoulder in a show of comfort and friendship, the good thing about Aveline was that Hawke could rely on her just _being_ there, without flowery words or wanting to overly waffle on about emotions.  
  
“Because the alternative would be living with your Uncle and whoring at the Blooming Rose.” Aveline said with a smile. “Now get up, I don’t want to see my leader being anxious.” Hawke stood on command and let Aveline fuss over her by straightening her armour and fixing her posture. “I especially don’t want _them_ to see you being anxious.” Aveline added and nodded her head towards Varric and Bethany who were poking the corpses of Darkspawn looking for anything useful. Bethany had found nothing and gingerly walked over to the women, smiling and looking pale.  
  
“How are we going?” she asked in her light voice, a gash on her forehead had stopped bleeding and left a vibrant red mark against her pale skin. Hawke smiled at her, all cheeky and classic Hawke, almost the picture perfect copy of her father’s smile.  
  
“We’re nearly there.” Hawke lied through her teeth and felt guilty about it until she saw the relief pass through her sister.  
  
“Thank the Maker.” Bethany said quietly before perking up, ready to continue. “When we get back to that asshole Bartrand with good news he might actually shut up for a bit.” She said cheerfully and leaned against a boulder to rest, taking a sip from her waterskin.  
  
“Are you able to keep going?” Hawke asked while stretching out her shoulder muscles which screamed against the movement. Bethany nodded and used her staff to lean forward.  
  
“I’ll be fine, I’m keeping the lyrium potions in reserve in case someone needs a healer but really nothing is getting past you or Aveline.” Hawke grunted in agreement before using a rag of what used to be clothing on a Darkspawn corpse to clean her daggers and sheath them.  
  
“We should keep moving. You ready Tethras?” Hawke called to Varric who was pocketing some coin he found on a corpse. Why the Darkspawn ever had money on them was beyond Hawke and every time she found some coin on them all she could think of was a little Darkspawn shop that sold clothing rags and broken weapons.  
  
“I’m good to go Ladies.” Varric said as he pushed past the group of women, seemingly in a hurry to get this over and done with.

 

It turned out that Hawke wasn’t as much of a liar that she thought and soon they had found their way back to the main road they were following. It was only a four hour walk back to the expedition where Bartrand was just as unthankful as Hawke had expected and she wondered how Bartrand, a shit eating asshole, was so different to Varric who was friendly to just about anyone he met. They decided to camp for the night, if it was night – Hawke wasn’t so sure, before taking the side passage with the full expedition.

The four of them sat by a tiny fire and cleaned their armour as some kind of stew warmed slowly in an iron pot on the coals. They were chatting about Kirkwall and their friends back there and how the lucky bastards were most likely just lazing about in the tavern.  
  
“I’ll be surprised if Fenris doesn’t kill Anders by the time we return.” Bethany said, “He seems nice, a bit strange though with Justice running around inside his head. Why he agreed to it I’ll never understand.”  
  
“Something to do with the Hero of Ferelden.” Aveline supplied. “He mentioned travelling with the spirit once but then he started talking about the Fade and eventually went back to the topic of freeing mages.” Hawke snorted a laugh, any conversation with Anders led back to freedom for mages. Varric raised his eyebrows and looked at each of the women in turn, Hawke being the last.  
  
“You sound skeptical Hawke.” Varric said. “I would have thought you would have agreed with Anders.” Hawke furrowed her eyebrows, trying to see any remaining blood on the boot she was cleaning.  
  
“She does.” Bethany said quietly, a small smile on her face. “The issue is she’s far too hindered by realism. Give her an idea and she’ll find all the traps in it.”  
  
“Can’t argue with that.” Hawke said with a huff and pulled her other boot off her foot, leaving her in leggings and a cotton shirt. Leaning back she grabbed a bottle of brandy from her pack and popped the cork. Bethany sighed in exasperation, she had thought that Hawke didn’t bring any alcohol, but no, she wasted precious room in her pack for it.   
  
Hawke had drunk in Lothering but after fleeing to Kirkwall it seemed that the drinking had increased. Hawke knew what her sister’s sigh was about and took a swig while staring right at her before passing the bottle to Aveline who took it gratefully.  
  
“So what’s your take Hawke? On Anders’ crusade to free mages?” Aveline asked and Hawke paused, even though Anders had been with them a few months now the subject had never really come up.  
  
“I’m sure she’s all for it, what with Sunshine here and all.” Varric winked at Bethany who took a swig from the brandy bottle and grimaced.  
  
“My Father was an apostate.” Hawke said quietly, remembering the image of her Father from when she was young, before he died.  
  
“Really? I didn’t know that.” Varric said as if he were taking down the information for later use.  
  
“He escaped from the circle and then fled with my mother to Ferelden, young love and all that.” Hawke sighed and smiled, remembering. “I remember being young, maybe four or five. Beth and Carver were babies and we had just settled in Lothering. Father had bought a plot of land that backed onto a larger farm, he had planned to establish us there and stop moving around so much.”  
  
“Bit hard with twins.” Aveline added and Hawke nodded.  
  
“There was a man who lived nearby, an old soldier turned watchman, I think he must have lost his family somehow because he doted on us. Would take me fishing and hunting when Father couldn’t and first started teaching me to fight. He was a good friend to us, even after Father died.” The bottle had come back to Hawke and she took another swig.   
  
“He absolutely loved the twins. Got them matching swords and bows.”  
  
“Carver hated it.” Bethany giggled. “He always wanted to be different, better than everyone else.”  
  
“One day he came sprinting in on his horse,” Hawke continued, “Two Templars had tracked my Father to Lothering and were asking the townsfolk about him. I think I was eight, I remember Mother panicking and trying to get the twins together, but they were barely three years old and hard to handle. My Father was yelling that we couldn’t hide in the forest, the twins would scream and we would be found. He pulled me aside and said that he was going into the forest, to the glade where we trapped for deer and if the Templars asked, I should take them there.”  
  
“Big thing to ask a kid.” Varric said quietly, a little sadness on his voice as he measured his friend who was still polishing her boot, even though it was clean.  
  
“I was eight. I had no idea why Templars were coming, just to be careful of them. And I knew the woods, Mother wouldn’t have been able to take them, ever the noblewoman.”  
  
“What happened?” Aveline prompted.  
  
“They came in, knocked politely and everything. And I don’t mean that sarcastically, they actually did knock, and started asking about my Father, how long we had been in Lothering and all that. They asked Mother where he was and she said ‘ _I can’t take you to him._ ’. Which to them probably meant that she was refusing to, and they hit her so hard I can remembering the blood arcing out of her mouth onto the wall.”  
  
“Shit.” Varric muttered under his breath.  
  
“I jumped between the Templars and Mother, the men laughed at me of course. But I told them I could take them; that Mother couldn’t because she never went into the forest. They grabbed me and led me outside while Mother stayed and held onto the twins, and I took them to the glade.” Hawke fell silent for a moment and contemplated the food that Bethany had put in front of her, she never ate that much and whatever this stew was didn’t look appealing, so she took a drink from the brandy instead as it made its way around the group.

The others were waiting quietly, Bethany breathed a quiet ‘ _go on’_ as if giving permission to continue.  
  
“The Templars wandered right into the middle of the glade and stood still, I had thought for a moment that my Father wasn’t there. That he had ran and I got scared, really scared. One came up and grabbed me by the hair and threw me onto a rock, I hit it pretty badly, couldn’t see properly for a bit. But I heard a massive crack and then yelling. Father had struck them with a lightning spell and was immobilising one of them while our neighbour was charging the other. I sat and watched while one of the Templars kicked the ice away from his legs and threw his hand out to my Father who fell clutching his chest.”  
  
“A smite?” Aveline asked and Hawke nodded.  
  
“He couldn’t move, the Templar stood above him for a deathblow and I ran at them, drew my own tiny dagger and stuck it into the back of his knee.” Varric and Bethany winced at the image. “He tried to hit me but I ducked out of the way, he fell to one knee so I jumped onto his back and slit his throat.” Hawke fell back into the memory for a moment before blinking it away, she had plenty of time to come to terms with what happened. “Father recovered and the other Templar was struck down, the whole Ice through the torso thing that Beth does? She learnt it from him. He came over and knelt behind me while I was staring at this dead Templar, he said to me; ‘ _I’m sorry you had to do that Grae, but sometimes we have to do hard things to protect the people we love.’_ ”  
  
“You were eight.” Varric said, a little angry. “As life lessons go, that’s a hell of a kick in the pants.” Hawke snorted a laugh before putting down the over polished boot.  
  
“My Father was an advocate for mage freedom, or as much as an advocate could be when on the run. And to keep the freedom he had earned, the freedom that saw him paranoid and never quite settling, he would kill whoever he needed. _That_ is what mage freedom is, the fear of magic being uncontrolled – there are plenty of apostates out there already but they’re outnumbered not only by the Templars but by the townsfolk who are just plain scared. I don’t agree with how mages are treated by the Chantry. But any break from the Circles will begin with blood and end with blood. It’s not a war I’m interested in, they won’t have any Hawke blood on their hands.” Hawke looked to her sister who was smiling tightly at her, she had heard this tirade before and Hawke knew she was getting riled up and took a bite of the stew for distraction, it was gross; she wasn’t surprised.  
  
“What happens when they come for Sunshine?” Varric asked and almost regretted it when he saw Hawke’s eyes grow dark.  
  
“Like I said, they won’t have any Hawke blood on their hands.” She said sullenly.  
  
“Grae is under the impression that she can take on the entire Kirkwall Templar garrison.” Bethany joked and Hawke smiled at her sister, scrunching up her nose. “To her credit, she’s kept me away from the Circle this long.”  
  
“Yes, how have you done that exactly?” Varric asked amused, crossing his arms over his chest and giving her a measured look.  
  
“Clearly I have a good deal going with that Knight-Commander. What his name?” Hawke tapped Aveline’s leg who raised an eyebrow at her, “The cute one.”  
  
“Cullen.” Aveline supplied and Hawke nodded as Varric and Bethany laughed.  
  
“I don’t think you’re his type Cupcake.” Varric said through chuckling. “But to be fair I don’t think _anyone_ is his type.”  
  
“Why aren’t I his type?” Hawke protested. “I do okay!”  
  
“Yeah, but not handsome, stoic, Knight-Commander Cullen okay.” Bethany jabbed, still laughing.  
  
“I’m insulted.” Hawke deadpanned. “As soon as we get back to Kirkwall he’ll be on his knees for me.” She paused for a moment before bursting into laughter herself. Bethany took another swig from the bottle with a mischievous glint in her eyes, directed straight at her sister.  
  
“The Templar won’t be, not by _any_ stretch of the imagination.” Beth said quietly. “But you know who will be?” She turned and smiled at Varric, who looked up excitedly.  
  
“You have a juicy secret.” He said excitedly.  
  
“I have a juicy secret.” Bethany purred.  
  
“Tell me. Tell me now. You were always my favourite Sunshine.” Varric ployed and Bethany leant over and whispered in his ear, his eyes widened and he giggled a little before they both turned to look at Hawke smugly.

“Yeah, I see that.” Varric said and Bethany nodded and made an affirmative sound. Hawke rolled her eyes at them and leaned back to look at Aveline who was still trying to get blood and guts off of her armour.  
  
“You know what they’re going on about?” Hawke asked, feeling like the only adult of the group save for Aveline.  
  
“Probably Isabela.” Aveline said without much emotion or interest in the matter. Hawke nodded, Isabela had made an awful lot of passes at just about everyone in Kirkwall. She leaned forward as Aveline looked up to the rock above them and said; “Oh. Or Fenris.” Hawke’s eyes snapped back to Aveline and she made a confused sound at her. Bethany was squealing while pushing at Varric and they both wore the same wide shit eating grin.  
  
“Fenris.” Hawke said disbelievingly. Aveline paused again and looked to Hawke.  
  
“He respects you.” She said flatly before turning back to her armour. Hawke sighed in frustration and shook Aveline’s leg until she looked up again in annoyance.  
  
“No, but, what did he _actually_ say?” Hawke said, wanting more information, although she wasn’t sure if she saw Fenris as relationship material. No restraint crazy sex material yes, but not relationship.  
  
“He said; ‘ _I respect her.’_ ” Aveline growled, clearly annoyed at Hawke for interrupting her. Hawke turned back to Varric and Bethany and shook her head.  
  
“Sorry, Fenris probably isn’t my type.” Hawke said to them.  
  
“We’re okay with that.” Varric said and Bethany nodded sagely. Before looking at each other and giggling with their inside joke.  
  
“Andraste’s perky fucking tits.” Hawke swore. “I’m glad you two are getting along so well.” She turned back to her armour and kept cleaning, darkspawn blood was worse to get off than any other kind of blood, smelled worse too.  
  


She listened to Varric and Bethany giggle and prattle and tried to eat a bit before rolling out her bedroll and lumping herself onto it. Soon most of the camp was asleep aside from the first watch which Varric was a part of and a few hours in the next watch was roused. Varric dragged his bedroll over to Hawke and quietly threw it down next to her, she was shivering even with her clean armour on, putting his blanket over her he scooted closer and gingerly placed his arm on her side. Feeling the warmth Hawke rolled and curled closer to him, fitting underneath his chin and gently curling her fingers in the fabric of his shirt.  
  
“Thanks, Varric.” She mumbled half asleep. He let the weight of his arm settle on her as his eyes drifted closed.  
  
“No problem, Dumpling.” He whispered and felt her shivering subside, soon they were both asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke’s muscles were already screaming from the impacts, Bethany was weak and could barely cast anything strong enough to affect them. Varric was out of Bolts and vulnerable at close quarters. Hawke sighed and nodded, knowing that this was it. The last chance.

The expedition carried on as usual for another few weeks. Stabbing Darkspawn and listening to Bartrand’s arrogance became normal, at one point a worker grabbed at Bethany’s arse and soon regretted it once Hawke’s dagger was scraping at his throat but aside from that nothing notable had happened. Varric continued to pull his bedroll over to Hawke’s at night, no one questioned it or even thought it out of the ordinary, Aveline had even said she was sleeping better without listening to Hawke’s complaining.

The Roads had become more cavernous and strange looking Lyrium was protruding from the rocks. No one was touching it, especially anyone who wasn’t a dwarf considering dwarves had a resistance to Lyrium. Besides they weren’t going to cart it out, if they were going to make money off of it they would have to send down a separate expedition with miners. As it was they marked it on a map and continued on.

Exploring the anti-chambers their small group ran into some big, ugly darkspawn and after cutting them down they found a strange deep red idol on a pedestal. It hummed as Varric and Hawke approached it, keeping an eye out for traps they could possibly trigger. It sat alone with no other discernible markings as to what it could be, just sealed up in the chamber waiting for them.  
  
“What the hell is that thing made of?” Hawke asked as Varric leaned closer to the statue.  
  
“It’s red lyrium.” He said in astonishment. “Looks like you can craft with it after all.”  
  
“Worth much you think?” Hawke offhandedly asked and Varric made one of those _you have no idea_ huffs.  
  
“Dumpling, this statue could buy all of Hightown.” Hawke’s eyebrows raised at that, the chance of finding something like this down here was rare, it made the expedition worth it.

Bartrand strode in now the danger was all over, Varric turned and smiled victoriously at his brother.  
  
“Hey Bartrand,” Varric threw the idol down the stairs to Bartrand who effortlessly caught it, Hawke still got anxiety from the motion, _oh sure throw the fucking priceless artifact._   
  
“Worth much you think?” Varric sarcastically asked and Bartrand’s eyebrows shot up as he examined it.  
  
“Not bad little brother.” He said, which was probably the nicest thing he had said for months, he walked out of the chamber as Hawke and Varric continued to explore the area.

A heavy scraping drew their attention to the doorway, where the door was slowly closing.  
  
“ _The door!”_ Hawke yelled as they all sprinted towards it, she leapt down the stairs, heart pounding and hand reaching for the stone, only to miss it by inches and slammed into it. She scrabbled against the door trying to find purchase to pull it open again, panic rising in her throat.  
  
“ _Bartrand,”_ Varric yelled beside her, “ _The door closed behind you.”_ Hawke could hear his reply muffled from behind the thick stone. _You were always one for the obvious, Brother._

Varric stood dumbfounded at the betrayal as Hawke screamed and pounded at the door. Promising Bartrand that she would slice off his cock and shove it down his throat when she got her hands on him. Behind her Bethany was pale and shaking, Aveline beside her comforting her with a hand on her shoulder and looking grim.  
  
“What kind of civilization at the fucking pinnacle of engineering makes a door that only opens _one fucking way_.” Hawke yelled in frustration and kicked at the door, receiving only a sore foot for her effort. She leaned an arm against it and pressed her head in the crook of her arm and sighed. She could see Varric in the corner of her eye and gently put her hand on his shoulder.  
  
“I should have seen this coming.” He rasped quietly, still in shock as he stared at the door.  
  
“He’s your brother, none of us guessed this.” Hawke said and squeezed his shoulder before turning to face the others. Bethany was breathing quickly, nervous but holding it together. Hawke strode over and grabbed her arm, her other hand cupping her face to get eye contact. Sweat was beading on Bethany’s skin as tears collected, to her credit she wasn’t about to let them fall.  
  
“Beth. We’re getting out of here.” Hawke said to her, Bethany nodded gently, her mouth slightly parted. “We go further in until we come across another main road and then that will take us to the surface.” Bethany swallowed and leaned her head against Hawke’s collarbone, Hawke gently hugged her little sister, pushing down the panic in her lungs.  
  
“Conserve your lyrium, we need to you heal more than ever now. Let me fight them. I promised Mother I’d get you home, that’s what we’re doing. Isn’t that right Varric?” she called over to the dwarf and he turned, looking angry.  
  
“That’s right, and I have a brother to skin alive.” He growled and pushed past the group heading for the entrance of an unexplored chamber.

 

The further in they travelled, the stranger the stonework became. They had stumbled upon areas of the Deep Roads that were ancient and soon Varric had no idea who any of the statues were and couldn’t read any writing, even the characters of the language were different. Some chambers opened up to be massive hallways with ornate columns and others had partially collapsed, leaving the four of them to crawl through small spaces and hoping for the best. Hawke scouted ahead most of the time, walking silently in her leather to check around corners and in rooms. They ambushed a lot of Darkspawn who mostly just milled in the area and scavenged around the rocks, they seemed to have no purpose without an Archdemon to command them. Especially with so few numbers after the Blight.

They ran out of food quickly and took to eating the Deep Mushrooms that luckily grew everywhere, stopping rarely to rest for a few hours before continuing on. Everyone became tired, even Varric had run out of jokes and quips.

Darkspawn gave way to strange animated rock creatures who were controlled by a Demon, trapped in the Deep Roads, who promised to show them the way out. Hawke stared at it for a moment, while the others stared at her waiting for the decision. When she told it to fuck off they had to fight their way out of a dozen human sized rock critters and push even further, eventually falling into a chamber that had a giant rock creature who exploded in energy every couple of minutes or so.

It was fighting this guy, that Hawke had affectionately called Nugnug, that she really, really felt lost. A great time for her doubt to hit, she cowered behind a large pillar as the creature’s energy exploded in rays of light, and even Hawke, who had no magical abilities whatsoever, was cringing from the feel of the raw magic. Bethany wasn’t faring as well, she was screaming and twisting against another pillar each time the magic soared past them, the sheer brutal energy making her feel as if she were being dipped in molten iron. The one advantage was that each time it did this, it would deconstruct leaving it’s glowing centre vulnerable. And although smaller creatures appeared when this happened Hawke and Aveline managed to keep them off Varric long enough for him to hit the centre with his bolts and weaken it.

When he ran out of bolts Hawke could hear his swearing over the deafening hum of the exploding magic while he clutched Bethany to his chest, in case she writhed into the path of the streams.  
  


Hawke looked down and squeezed the hilt of her daggers, adjusting her grip so the blades were pointing down and away. She glanced over to Aveline who was bloodied and covering herself with her shield, she met Hawke’s gaze through the blood on her face looking grim and Hawke new that look as a signal for her last stand. She couldn’t keep up what she was doing, hefting the shield and slamming into creatures of solid rock, no one could.

Hawke’s muscles were already screaming from the impacts, Bethany was weak and could barely cast anything strong enough to affect them. Varric was out of Bolts and vulnerable at close quarters. Hawke sighed and nodded, knowing that this was it. The last chance. She stepped away from the pillar and stood in a clear section, just before the line of magic and bent her knees into a sprinter’s position. Aveline did the same, rapping her sword against her shield in a show of readiness, a throwback from her soldiering days. As the magic petered off and vanished Hawke could hear the rock creature crumble as the smaller ones raised in front of it.

Aveline let out a war cry as she charged for the line of creatures, Hawke on her heels. She hit one with enough force to send it flying, falling apart and opened the way for Hawke to sprint through, using the fallen boulders of the giant creature she leaped towards it’s centre, daggers raised, and used the momentum to strike hard at the glowing core. Her daggers pierced it and the light wavered before the crystal-like core exploded with kinetic energy, throwing her back through the air and slamming into a pillar. A scream tore from her throat but was cut short as she was winded, pain laced across the back of her shoulders and she flopped face first to the ground, daggers lost. 

 

Her swimming vision caught up with the movement in front of her eyes, the small creatures had disintegrated as the larger one was destroyed and she could see Aveline lying on her back, shield discarded, blinking slowly as she fought to catch her breath. There was blood pooling under Hawke’s hand and it must have been hers because her body was refusing to move, she wriggled her fingers cautiously which just made sticking sounds in the blood which was strangely the sound she could hear the best. Not Varric and Bethany running over to them, or her sister yelling her name.

Hawke watched as Varric slid on his knees to Aveline, reaching quickly for the buckles on the side of her plate mail. Vaguely Hawke knew her sister was kneeling beside her, her hand pressing hard against her back through the leather armour, but the feel of the grit beneath her cheek was more prominent than the pain, which she was probably in a lot of.

Bethany leaned down to look into Hawke’s eyes, she said something like _are you with me_ or _I like smithies_ , Hawke just blinked slowly, thinking that; yeah. Smithies were pretty great. She kept staring at Aveline, knowing she should be next to her friend and helping Varric, but her mind was dulled, clouded, her arm absently moved to push her body up and everything screamed in pain, when her brain caught onto the sound, she realised it was coming from her. Aveline waved Varric off and pushed him away while Bethany cried for him to come to her.  
  
“Give me your hands.” Bethany was panicking, Hawke could hear it in her voice and soon felt small hands being replaced by larger ones on her back, giving more pressure as she whimpered underneath it.  
  
“ _What the fuck is that?”_ Varric said, his voice ragged. “Is that her fucking _spine?_ ” Bethany didn’t reply as she pulled an elfroot potion out of her bag, gently pressing the opening against Hawke’s parted mouth. She barely even registered the touch, let alone could fathom how to swallow right now.  
  
“ _Fuck._ ” Bethany swore and somewhere in the back of her mind Hawke chastised her for being so vulgar. That was firmly concreted as her own personality trait. “Okay. I’m going to cut the armour off. I need you to hold it in place and keep the pressure until we can remove it, I’ll pour the potion into the wound and that will stop the bleeding.”  
  
“You can’t magic it?” Varric asked incredulously. “Aren’t you a healer?”  
  
“Aside from the fact that I feel like I’ve been smited time and again over the last half hour _and_ that I’ve used up all the Lyrium pots? No. I’m not. Anders could do it but he’s not here. I am. And my sister is bleeding out on the floor of a fucking cave _so fucking do what you’re told._ ” Hawke felt a moment of pride for her sister and smiled into the stone beneath her before glancing back at Aveline who had managed to roll on her side to watch, she was pale and floppy, about half dead from exhaustion but considering the commotion she must have looked a hell of a lot better than Hawke. Hawke could feel the tugs of her armour as her sister efficiently cut away at it, she met Aveline’s eyes who nodded, still grim but with a determination that she was sending to Hawke.  
  
“Be-th.” Hawke muttered, she wasn’t sure what she was trying to say, just that she had to say something, she needed to know what was going on back there.  
  
“You’re alright, Grae.” Bethany said in a weirdly empty voice. “This is going to sting a little.” Hawke groaned as Varric’s hand slipped a bit on her back, sending a stab of pain through the numbness.  
  
“Lia-r.” Hawke chuckled and wished she’d just fall on conscious already. The armour was peeled back and she felt a rush of cold on her skin, Varric’s hands disappeared quickly and repositioned on the nape of her neck and the top of her arse. Hawke thought in the back of her mind some quip along the lines of; _If I had known you were this kinky, we’d be doing more than spooning._ But it came out as: “Kink-sp-oon.”  
  
“You wanna hurry up there Sunshine?” Varric said quickly. “I’m starting to worry here.” Hawke felt the back of her linen shirt rip open and heard the scrape of the bottle lifting from the floor, she was mildly conscious, vision softening at the edges before feeling acid being poured inside of her. She screamed, louder and harsher than she could remember doing before. Scrabbling at the stone as she was pushed further into it, she bucked and writhed trying to get away, but the pain didn’t stay at her shoulders, it travelled down excruciatingly slow to her lower back, past the inward curve and up towards her arse.

The back of her brain knew that Bethany was carefully pouring the potion into the wound, but the rest of her thought that she was being murdered, or punished by the Maker for some kind of wrongdoing. The pain reached a peak and Hawke lost the strength to push against the hands, she lay with her hair fallen from its tie and covering her face, sobbing as the agony slowly dissipated and her vision finally turned white as she passed out.

 

She woke with a painful groan with Varric’s jacket under her face as a pillow and gingerly reached to touch the source of her pain. Her muscles so stiff she could barely reach the middle of her lower back but she felt the lumps of stitches. Varric knelt down next to her and moved her hand away, holding it gently.  
  
“You’ve got a wound from the upper right of your shoulder blade down to the middle of your lower back, stopping just before your tailbone.” Varric said, knowing that she wanted to know the damage before anything else. “It was deep enough to see your spine but luckily you didn’t do any damage to it so you should still be able to move your legs.” He sighed and squeezed her hand. “Honestly Hawke. You’re going to age me prematurely.” Hawke hummed and closed her eyes, still tired.  
  
“How?” her voice was ragged and barely audible.  
  
“Jagged piece of rock on the pillar you were thrown into.” He said quietly.  
  
“Fu-uck.” Hawke drawled.  
  
“Want to hear the good news though?” He asked softly while pushing some of her hair behind her ear. She grunted in response, what she wanted was to not feel anything from the neck down. “We found a shitload of treasure.” Hawke huffed, not believing him for a second.  
  
“Not in the mood for jokes, Varric.” She slurred and he let out a short laugh before placing a diamond the size of a knucklebone in her line of vision. Hawke stayed still and contemplated the shining object in front of her, it twinkled at her mockingly and she gently reached up to paw at it, feeling the cold stone. “No.” Hawke whispered a mixture of astonishment and disbelief, Varric chuckled and leaned forward, letting Hawke make eye contact without moving her head from the ground.  
  
“Guess it was all worth it, Lady Hawke.” He purred and Hawke snickered, rolling the diamond between her fingers.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke silently drew her dagger from her boot and went still, her tears escaping without a sound, she let her mind flow back to that darkness when she killed others, that part she kept locked up until she had to be a monster.

Getting up and bending was the hardest thing Hawke had to do, the wound on her back was healing nicely and Bethany tried to heal it every now and then but it was a slow process. She could walk, keeping her back stiff, but it was a slow pace. Thankfully no one complained.

They had marked the location of the treasure on the map Varric still had and taken a few of the more valuable looking things with them. Unfortunately they couldn’t find anything along of the lines of a shirt for Hawke so she stuck with her ruined bloody shirt, tying her breast band back together in small knots she fashioned it into a belt that hung loosely under her breasts, at least this way the shirt kept closed, even if she jiggled a lot as she walked.  
  
They had finally made it back to the main thoroughfare of the Deep Roads, and luckily enough the nearest surface entrance was about two weeks walk away, less if Hawke was stubborn enough to push it, which she was.

At night they slept little, even though they hadn’t come across many Darkspawn they were exhausted and paranoid, Varric had taken to sleeping sitting up against the walls and one night he had wordlessly gathered Hawke into his arms, letting her curl up against his torso as he draped his jacket over their huddled forms. He carefully wrapped his arms around her shoulders and let his face rest against her hair, breathing deeply he let out a stuttered sigh before letting his exhaustion win and falling asleep. Tired beyond emotions, Hawke was purely thankful for his comforting warmth and fell asleep with her hand splayed across his chest and his hair tickling at her face.

 

A week from the surface their diet of deep mushrooms was taking its toll; frequently Bethany would peel off to the side and vomit, usually followed by Hawke who would manage to rip a stitch each time, Varric was coping well and Aveline was mostly holding her food down but she had stopped talking for a few days.  
  
“You’ve got that noble fussy stomach already Lady Hawke.” Varric would tease as he held her shoulders in an attempt to still Hawke’s back while she heaved and retched. She moaned and stood gingerly, gripping onto his arm for balance before pushing them to keep moving.

That day Bethany had hung behind the group quietly. Not unusual given their last week. Hawke stumbled and dragged her feet as she marched on, Varric an ever present guardian ready to steady her if needed.  
  
“Can-can we stop for a moment?” Bethany asked breathily from behind the group, Aveline and Varric continued to shuffle forward while Hawke paused in her steps and looked around.  
  
“It’s early still, but if you need it we can set up camp here-“ Hawke turned to see Bethany collapsing to her knees, gasping she rushed forward to catch her head before it smashed into the stone. As Hawke clutched her she could see the dark rings around her eyes, her complexion white aside from shadows that covered her gaunt cheekbones and her eyes, maker, they were nearly grey. Aveline and Varric rushed back to them as Hawke cradled her sister, knowing exactly what was wrong but refusing to acknowledge it.  
  
“Oh Maker no.” Aveline gasped, seeing in her friend the same sickness that took her husband as they fled from Lothering.  
  
“Bethany-“ Hawke whimpered, trying to keep herself together. “It’s so like you to hide this from me.” She had meant it as a joke but it came out with a heavily finality, her sister smiled at her weakly regardless.  
  
“I’m sorry.” She said, her voice cracking. “I didn’t want to bother you, you were in so much pain.”  
  
“Beth, we could have done something.” Hawke protested as Bethany’s breath became ragged. “You need to hold on, we’re so close to the surface we can get help.”  
  
“You can’t cure the blight.” She said calmly as Hawke shook and finally let the tears she was fighting fall, Bethany was limp in her arms, no strength left in her muscles. Her face went from the calm smile to absent horror as she gripped onto Hawke’s arm.

“Grae.” She whispered, “I don’t want to become like them.” Hawke’s mind went into overdrive, what she was asking, what Aveline had to do for Wesley, she couldn’t do it. Not to her sister. Not to the girl she had protected since she was born. She had never prayed, but right now, at this moment,  she begged the Maker to take her instead of Bethany, in their whole lives her little sister had done nothing to deserve death.

 _Maker, don’t do this to her._  
  
“Please.” Bethany sobbed dryly. “It’s getting so close, I can feel it.” Hawke breathed deep ragged breaths as she pulled her sister to lean against her, her arms over Hawke’s shoulders limply as her head rested against her face. Hawke silently drew her dagger from her boot and went still, her tears escaping without a sound, she let her mind flow back to that darkness when she killed others, that part she kept locked up until she had to be a monster.  
  
“I’m so sorry, Beth.” She whispered and felt her smile against her skin.  
  
“I’m going to Carver and Father. Don’t feel bad for me.” Bethany whispered and stilled, a heartbeat later Hawke had sunk the dagger into her flesh, piercing her heart. Her sister jerked momentarily before going limp and the last of her breath escaped in a rattle.

Hawke gently cupped the back of her head, feeling her long hair tangle through her fingers, she stared at the expanse of the Deep Roads, the place they were going to find their fortune, the place Hawke pushed for so she could keep her family safe. It stared back at her mockingly, dirt and dust and stone.

Shaking, Hawke let out a shuddering sob and pulled out the dagger before dropping it onto the stone beneath her. Her sister now dead in her arms she shook as she cradled her, whimpering as Aveline and Varric moved forward to detach them.

 

They had buried her in a shallow grave along the side of the Roads, no one had the energy to spare to dig it deeper and Hawke silently promised she’d come back for her and bring her home. When they had made camp that night no one had said anything, no fire was lit, it was close enough to the surface now that the outside was affecting the light of the tunnels and the moonlight gently poked through cracks in the roof to give some light.

So close. So close to the surface. Hawke let her head hang as she sat, Aveline staring off in the distance and Varric propped up against a wall. She was a monster, worse, a fool to think she could have protected her down here. All her training, her fighting and bravado meant nothing the moment she killed her kin.

 

They didn’t sleep, and once dawn peeked through the cracks they silently stood up and continued walking. It wasn’t long before they smelt fresh air and heard animals, the tunnel curved up and giant slabs of stone lay broken as what once were well crafted steps, sunlight poured through and a wary rabbit skittered away from the group to the outside. Aveline pushed forward quickly, energy renewed with the prospect of escape, Varric followed soon climbing a few of the giant steps before turning to see Hawke paused at the bottom.

She couldn’t move, the unfairness of her escaping while Bethany rotted below raised like bile in her throat, she stared down at her ruined blood stained clothes, disappointed that she had survived.

Varric’s footsteps scraped in front of her and she looked up to meet his eyes, level with hers for the first time, he smiled sadly at her, gently cupping her elbow to slide his hand down and hold hers.  
  
“We keep going, Grae.” He said quietly. “I’m not letting you fall behind.” He held her hand as she took that tentative step and kept it as she slowly ascended. Blinking against the daylight the cool wind met her face and she could smell the clusters of Embruim that grew nearby, almost foreign to her senses now. She breathed deep and let out a shaking sob, spotting Kirkwall as a speck in the distance. Varric squeezed her hand and looked her over carefully, his heart breaking as a tear escaped her closed eyes.

“Time to go home.” He said to her softly as they walked into the fields of the Free Marches together.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I failed. She thought. I fucking failed.

It should have felt different, but it didn’t.

Kirkwall was still the same with the Autumn rains barely making a dent on the dirty streets. Street urchins waved at Varric from the alleyways and he winked at them as the three walked through Lowtown.

They were a sight to behold and people were staring at them, Aveline still had some blood on her armour and it was well worn, fading bruises across her cheekbone had turned that sickly yellow brown. Most people here knew her as a city guard and most likely didn’t appreciate seeing a guard with blood all over them.

Varric was smiling covered in dust, his hair was still immaculate and Hawke eyed it suspiciously. Hawke was the weirdest to look at, she had managed to snag a clean shirt from the back of someone’s farm, much to Aveline’s contempt, but was missing half her armour still and had her daggers hanging from ties around her waist that looped onto her leather greaves. She looked a bit like a pirate and knew she’d have to avoid Isabela unless she wanted to be initiated into some weird lady-pirate cult and end up floating on a boat somewhere without pants.

She hadn’t realised how many steps were in Lowtown, far too many for a healthy person let alone for a miserable cripple like her. The wound on her back stretched painfully when she turned in any direction and itched terribly, at least that meant it was healing, if slowly.

They stopped by another set of stairs that would take them to Hightown, Aveline had to go that way to get back to the barracks at the Viscount’s Palace. She paused and looked at the stairs with disdain before turning to Hawke and Varric. Hawke smiled warily at her, sad to see her go, ridiculous since they saw each other nearly every week.  
  
“Don’t be a stranger.” Aveline said and Hawke nodded before she was quickly pulled in a tight awkward hug. When Aveline let go the two women spent a moment straightening their armour and clearing their throats. Varric laughed at the awkward display and Aveline bowed curtly to him, he returned the gesture. “Varric.” Aveline said in goodbye before beginning the hike up to the top of the city.

 

They reached the house of Hawke’s uncle before the Hanged Man and the two paused outside of it for a moment. People walked past them not taking any notice of the human and dwarf struggling with what to say.  
  
“I’ll send for Anders so he can patch you up.” Varric said, mostly to fill the silence. Hawke shook her head and shuffled her feet.  
  
“No need. I’ll go see him soon.” She said quietly, not really wanting to talk to anyone about the expedition just yet. Varric nodded in understanding and looked around the street, feeling awkward. “Thank you, Varric.” Hawke said barely above a whisper, he smiled tightly and gave her a bow.  
  
“I’ll come check on you, or you can come see me, if you need me.” He said a bit rushed. “Doesn’t matter what time it is, I’ll be around.” Hawke pulled him into a gentle hug and he gingerly placed his hands on her back so he wouldn’t hurt her. Hawke pulled away and smiled, walking slowly to the door of the house.

Her hand stopped on the wood, ready to push the door open. Her stomach rose in nervousness at the thought of having to tell her mother about Bethany and she noticed her hand trembling, paler and thinner than when she had left Kirkwall months ago. Glancing behind her she saw Varric give her a salute before walking away. Taking a deep breath she steeled herself and pushed the door open, stepping inside.

 

Varric walked for a moment before turning to see that Hawke had gone inside and promptly turned back to take cover in an alleyway where he had a good vantage point of the house. He had fully intended to return to the Hanged Man but at the last minute his gut told him to turn around, urging him to keep an eye on Hawke. He waited for a few moments, not sure what he was expecting as he patiently watched the front of the small stone house, few people passed by and no one noticed him as he leaned against the wall, it wouldn’t have mattered if they did, he wasn’t breaking any laws.

Sighing he scrubbed his face and wondered how long he was actually going to do this for. It had only been a few moments but it felt longer. She had _just_ returned home after months in an underground hellhole, she didn’t need him to hover over her. He wrangled with his doubts, was it just about making sure she was okay? Did spending all that time with her make him too overprotective? He was being foolish. She didn’t need him, he didn’t need her, he just wanted to be helpful.

A scream erupted from the house and Varric jumped, his heart in his throat as he watched the area intensely, straining to hear more. It wasn’t Hawke, it sounded similar, Leandra maybe? He could hear muffled yelling only able to make out the words _you promised_ before the yelling grew louder.

Hawke burst quickly from the door, her mother yelling at her to leave echoed as the door swung shut leaving Hawke on the steps. Varric’s chest panged as he saw his friend stop and run her shaking hand through her hair, blood was on her face in streaks and Varric had hung around enough taverns to know that they were from fingernails.

He swore under his breath seeing her expression, she stared at nothing, her face blank and a lost sadness in her eyes. His feet were rooted to the spot, unsure if he should go to her. He didn’t want to emerge as a voyeuristic weirdo, who lied about going home but stayed instead to watch the drama unfold. He watched the blood drip slowly off her chin and spatter onto the dust stone of the steps, leaving a dark spot.

He cringed inwardly, remembering each time she received a split lip and how she would wipe it away and laugh, it was unnerving, and endearing. But this time she stayed still, hands resting lightly on her dagger hilts, staring at nothing until she closed her eyes and tilted her head to the sky, as if savouring the wind.

Gently it began to rain and he saw her sigh, her shoulders dropping as she did, stepping down she slowly walked down the road, right past Varric’s hiding place, but she didn’t notice him. She didn’t notice anything.

 

Hawke walked slowly in the direction of the docks, there was no reason to be going that way, she just thought it would be better to stare at the ocean, to see if there was a boat headed away, or to just find herself a quiet nook in the stone so she could find peace in the bottom of a bottle.

She couldn’t shake the image of her mother from her mind, screaming and clawing at her as if by doing that she could get her daughter back.

 _You promised,_ she had screamed, _You promised you’d bring her back._

Hawke dragged her hand through her hair tightly, the wet strands sticking to her skin as they flicked back. It had rained at some point, soaking her shirt so it stuck to her skin in places, a few drops of blood spreading with the moisture.

 _Maker take you from this house_.

Hawke stopped and took a deep shuddering breath, closing her eyes and raising her face to the overcast sky.

_How could you leave her._

Hawke tried to steady her breathing as she felt a chill from the wind, she could barely focus, her mind refusing to make complete connections. She was so scared to walk into that house, she was shaking, nervous, guilty. Walking out she felt nothing. Like she had been cut from reality. She had had enough, enough of everything. She couldn’t go back, didn’t want to stand in the rain but didn’t want to see anyone or stay anywhere. Didn’t want to annoy Varric or Aveline, didn’t want to explain things to Isabela, Anders or Fenris and she definitely didn’t want to explain _everything_ to Merrill. She shook in the damp air.

 _I failed._ She thought. _I fucking failed._

  
“Hawke.” A deep voice from her left called her attention, a Qunari Sten stood guard outside of the Qunari Compund, chest bare except for the red paint they wore. Hawke looked him over, she recognised him as one who often stood guard and he was friendly enough. Always responded to her with grunts whereas the others would just stare down at her. She met his gaze with a questioning one of her own.

“The Arishok will see you now.” The Sten said commandingly, as if she had been waiting for an audience for some time.

  
“I-“ her voice broke. “I have no current business with the Arishok.” The Sten grunted in annoyance.

  
“Regardless. He will see you.” He pushed the gates to the compound open and waited for her. She had never been to see the Arishok without Fenris there to guide her through the protocols and help her with the language. On her own she doubted anything good would come of it and was more than likely to create some sort of political disaster. Her heart pounded as she uncertainly stepped into the compound.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Arishok?” Hawke asked, looking up to him confused. He hadn’t made a move to harm her, but pissing him off might just convince him to.

Inside the compound she was led to where the Arishok addressed visitors. Qunari watched her, saying nothing but comfortable with her presence, they were clearly not threatened by her even though every time she had been here beforehand they ensured she was disarmed.

The Arishok sat wide on his seat high above her at the top of some stairs. He was flanked by guards as usual and rested his elbows on his knees, one hand supporting his head that was framed by his long silver hair. She stopped at the base of the stairs and bowed, wincing when the stitches in her back stretched. Her daggers swung as she did, softly banging at her legs.  
  
“Hawke.” The Arishok’s voice rumbled down to her, carrying easily along the stone. “You have returned.” Hawke raised back up and met his eyes, Fenris had always chastised her for doing so, but it was a hard to break habit.  
  
“Yes, Arishok.” She said calmly. “A few hours past.”  
  
“The _Bas_ are talking about it already.” He said with annoyance, meaning the gossip had started. Any time he was forced to talk about the citizens of Kirkwall he got irritated. “Tell me, did you discover what you were seeking?” Hawke stared for a moment, her eyes wandering to the steps before she caught herself and met his eyes again. Swallowing she nodded.  
  
“Yes.” She said softer than she had intended. The Arishok gazed at her, not an unusual thing, Hawke was convinced he did it just to see if she would squirm.  
  
“Good, then we can discuss matters that require your attention when you have recovered.” He said as a matter of fact. Turning to the Sten beside him the Arishok said nothing, the Sten however bowed his head and strode down the stairs to Hawke. He quietly grunted and took her daggers from her side, passing them to an elf who had run up from behind Hawke. Startled she tried to gently brush off the Sten who just caught her arm and took the smaller dagger from her wrist.  
  
“Arishok?” Hawke asked, looking up to him confused. He hadn’t made a move to harm her, but pissing him off might just convince him to.  
  
“You do not require weapons while you recover. When you are well they will be returned.” He said, not relieving Hawke’s confusion at all. The Sten grabbed her other wrist and took that dagger also before quickly running his hands down her legs to find more.  
  
“With respect, Arishok. I will need my weapons to return home.” She said with a little more strength.  
  
“Have you not already returned home?” He asked. “That is why there is blood on your skin.” Hawke automatically reached up to the scratch marks on her face before catching herself and lowering her hand. She was nervous, unsure of the Arishok’s intention. Forcing her breath to steady she tried again.  
  
“Arishok-“ she started but was cut off.  
  
“ _Enough_.” He rumbled, annoyed. “You will follow the Sten.” It was clear by that statement she was dismissed. Without her weapons.

Hawke anxiously looked to the Sten who stood in front of her, it was the one from the gate. He grunted as he walked further into the compound slowly. Unarmed and injured, Hawke had no doubt that she was stuck here until she was let go. She swore before following the Sten.

 

He led her past a wooden fence that blocked off a large alcove, inside were large metal tubs filled with water that had hot coals at the base and smaller buckets were off to the side with water and cloths beside them. The Sten directed her to the closet bucket and grunted. Hawke looked around and raised her eyebrow at him, they were making her bathe? She must have smelled bad if that were the case. Just how long were they going to keep her here?

Apparently taking too long the Sten stepped forward and yanked her shirt up, pulling it over her head which distressed her wound. Hawke yelped and the Sten froze mid motion, realising her injury he took care in finishing what he had started. Bare chested in the cold Hawke huffed at him and glared. Unperturbed the Sten reached for the laces at her greaves and she scooted away.  
  
“I can do that.” She said quickly and his hands returned to cross over his chest, he stared at her waiting. “Good thing I’ve forgotten what privacy is huh.” Hawke muttered. Privacy was not something that occurred on the expedition and clearly coming back to Kirkwall would be more of the same. She undid the laces and wriggled out of her leather greaves, followed by her leggings. Her boots kicked off. The Sten pointed at a small crate and gestured for her to sit before grabbing a cloth and handing it to her. She took it and dipped it in the bucket before wringing it out and covering her face, the water was cold but still refreshing. Opening her eyes she saw another elf come and collect her clothes, taking them out of the area.  
  
“Can you at least tell me why I am here?” She asked the Sten before continuing to wash herself.  
  
“Recovering.” He replied as he picked up another cloth and dipped it into the bucket. Wringing it out he placed his hand on her shoulder and gently dabbed at the edges of her wound. “This is infected.” He said. She didn’t reply and they continued on in silence. Soon the Sten threw the blood covered cloth into the bucket, startling Hawke with the splash. “Come.” He said and Hawke obeyed, there wasn’t much of an alternative choice.

 

He led her to the metal tub and stopped her before the coals, gently he placed his arm around her back and the other under her knees, picking her up he stepped through the coals and lowered her into the hot water. She hissed as her skin became sensitive from the change of temperature, once safely in the tub the Sten moved away from the coals, kicking embers that stuck to his boot into the stone floor. Hawke sighed and relaxed into the water, even though her back was stinging, surrounded by armed Qunari who had basically just took her prisoner, it was the best bath she had ever felt.

She closed her eyes and dunked her hair underneath the water, pulling it roughly out of its tie and let it soak up the warm water, emerging her hair stuck to her skin, reaching her shoulder blades and so she scooped it away from her painful parts. Soon after the Sten stepped up and reached for her, Hawke was ready and leaned into his arms, not wanting to risk being dumped in the coals.

She was not a petite girl, often taller than the women around her, but being lifted up so easily made her feel very small, the Sten showed no effort in what he did as he carefully placed her down away from the fires. Picking up a cloth again he quickly wiped away any trace of red paint that had transferred from his skin onto hers and handed her a linen tunic which Hawke put on happily. It was large enough to fall to just above her knees and once belted off with a long piece of blue fabric it made her look almost human again. She took a moment to ensure the tunic was closed properly at the front, the belt the only thing keeping it closed before rushing to follow the Sten out of the alcove.

 

He took her to a part of the compound she had never seen, she hadn’t been permitted to go further than the Arishok’s seat before, turning sharply around a wall she saw a mass of tents, most of them large with Qunari, elves and humans all passing in and out of them getting along with their day.

She hadn’t realised the scale of area the Viscount had given the Qunari as a ‘ _gift_ ’, she was stupidly under the impression that it was only one or two boats that had sunk off the coast. Seeing the sea of tents and the mass of people walking around made her realise that it was a force capable of invasion. And they were already in the city. No wonder everyone was nervous. Hell, she was nervous.

They passed some tents with large makeshift bunk beds, others had elves working away preparing food. The open gazebo style tents had blacksmiths and armourers toiling away and she noticed that the different races of people were working happily together and everyone was busy. She barely saw that on the streets of Kirkwall where elves would be harassed as soon as they were away from the alienage and dwarves were spat at. They came to a smaller tent and the Sten lifted the flap, ushering her inside.

This tent had three beds off to the side and a small table with some cushions next to it, one of the beds looked lived in with herbs drying in bundles off to the side, the others were untouched. She glanced back to the Sten who remained at the tent entrance, barely short enough for the tent, Hawke noticed his nose ring for the first time as it glinted in the light.  
  
“Stay.” He commanded before letting the flap fall and walking away. Hawke sighed and sat on the bed, head in her hands.  
  
“Fucking hell Hawke.” She muttered to herself. “What have you gotten yourself into now?”  
  
The tent opened again and a smiling young elf walked in. She placed a plate of food on the table followed by a pot of tea.  
  
“Hello.” She said sweetly. “I’m Luthia. Sten has asked me to bring you some food, said you hadn’t eaten proper for some time.” Hawke stared at her warily, she was way too cheerful to be trusted.  
  
“The Sten _said_ that?” Hawke asked disbelievingly. Luthia smiled and sat herself on one of the cushions, waving Hawke to join her on the other, gingerly Hawke lowered herself onto the cushion, sure she wasn’t going to be getting back up again easily.  
  
“Oh yes, that Sten is very talkative.” She giggled as she poured the tea into a cup. “I’m certain he’s by the gate so they don’t have to listen to him prattle.” Hawke watched the liquid pour and steam rise up.  
  
“We are talking about the same Sten yes? Nose ring?” Hawke reached for the tea but the elf held her hand out quickly to stop her, Hawke jerked her hand away in response, heart pounding, nerves already on edge.  
  
“Sorry.” The elf said with a smile. “The tea is to help you sleep. Better eat first. And yes, the same one. He quite likes you I think. Volunteered to be your handler.” Hawke’s mind buzzed. Handler? What the hell was going on?  
  
“Why am I being handled?” She asked the elf quietly, poking at the food in front of her.  
  
“Not my place to say even if I knew.” Luthia flicked some black hair out of her eyes. “When I came here to convert there was a handler for a group of us. Not one on one. When I became Viddithari the handler went back to his duty as a Sten.”  
  
“Viddithari?” Hawke asked,  
  
“Someone who follows the Qun, but is not Qunari.” She supplied before standing up. “Best get some rest, and drink your tea. You look like you could use some sleep.” Luthia stood and left.

Hawke gazed down at the food and wondered about it, surely if they were going to kill her they wouldn’t poison her. They’d straight out take her head. And Luthia had already admitted that the tea was a kind of sedative. No need to drug her twice. Hesitantly Hawke took a bite, the flavour dancing in her mouth, Maker she had missed food. A moment later her hunger hit and she devoured the food, her stomach protesting she had to stop halfway through, shrunken from half starving in the deep roads. She noticed some mushroom on the plate and pulled a face, carefully pushing it to the side of the plate, she wasn’t going to be eating those any time soon.

Hunger sated and stomach trying to stretch to accommodate the small amount of food eaten Hawke pushed herself up into a sitting position on the bed, it only took a minute or so of careful bending and shuffling. Taking her cup of tea she took a gulp, it was very sweet and spicy, nearly black in colour. She hadn’t cared that the tea was drugged, the last week saw her waking up shaking from nightmares every few hours until she gave up on sleeping. If the tea would make her sleep, well, better than sitting in a strange place thinking about Bethany every few minutes.

Putting the rest back on the table she wondered how long until one of her friends questioned where she had gotten to, or if her mother would try to find her. They all probably thought it best to give her space, after all, she had only returned to Kirkwall a few hours ago. Fatigue washed over her, the tea acting quickly even though she had barely drunk any of it. Lying on her side she watched the fabric of the tent sway in the breeze, she missed Varric’s warmth, the constant companion as she slept these last few months.   
  
_Maker_ , _I can’t keep out of trouble._


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You stood before me a shell of what you once were. You reeked of death and cared not for yourself.”

The next morning Hawke took a gamble and stepped outside of her tent, partially to check out the area but also to see how far she could get without being caught. The answer was half a step as the Sten held his arm out to stop her. Hawke swore under her breath as he looked down at her with a glint of amusement in his eye, the rest of him still looking menacing.  
  
“Come.” He said before striding away, leaving Hawke to run after him barefoot.

He led her back to the Arishok, who was talking to people visiting the compound. The Sten strode up the steps with Hawke in tow before pointing at the ground beside the Arishok, who was seated on his makeshift throne. Hesitantly Hawke sat on the rug at the top of the stairs, her feet on the steps below. She sat with her legs folded to one side, conscious of the fact she wasn’t wearing anything underneath the tunic and that people were trying to talk below her. No one had told her to move or disapproved of what she was doing, it must have been what they were wanting her to do. Maker she missed conversation.  
  


The Arishok didn’t acknowledge her presence as she sat in his shadow and for the first time in her life she decided that saying nothing was the best course of action. He continued to address people, some were wanting to convert to the Qun, mostly elves and people off the street. He accepted only one who had asked which surprised Hawke, she would have thought that the Arishok intended to spread the Qun as much as possible, she couldn’t figure out why he said yes to the middle aged elvhen woman, but refused the younger man who had seen action. Hawke didn’t know either of them but she could see in the man’s stance he knew how to carry a sword, the woman was hunched over, some injury long ago nearly crippling her. Surely if he was to take her in the man met his requirements as well?

A couple of merchants came and offered trade with the compound, they were granted permission and a Sten took them further in so they could arrange a deal. An emissary from the Viscount requested a meeting between the Viscount and the Arishok and was refused, the emissary gave Hawke a measured stare before a Sten removed him. A couple of nobles deigned to leave Hightown long enough to ask for some mercenaries which were refused instantly, one left without a fuss but another was determined to get his way.  
  
“Only _one_ of your men would be needed. I’ll pay you well.” The noble huffed in his Orlesian accent, his leather was just for show and his intricate tunic was a bright canary yellow. He had clearly never been refused before and his slimy arrogance hid something else, something that Hawke didn’t like at all.  
  
“No.” The Arishok said for the third time. His voice rumbling with annoyance. The noble huffed again, propping his fist against his hip and tapping his foot as if everyone else was being unreasonable but him. He glanced sidelong at Hawke who was still sitting quietly and looking a bit bored.  
  
“You’re Hawke aren’t you?” He said gesturing at her. Hawke stilled, not liking how he was looking at her. She didn’t reply, but glared at him automatically. He took it as confirmation. “You did work for my cousin some time ago. I will pay your troupe twenty sovereigns.” He said smugly, shooting a smile to the Arishok as if he had been victorious. Hawke looked to the Arishok, he was watching her patiently with an eyebrow raised as if he were waiting for her answer. It was the first time he had acknowledged her presence today. Hawke looked back to the noble, unnerved by the Qunari’s stare.  
  
“No.” She said clearly. The noble spluttered and straightened his spine, offended by her refusal.  
  
“Why the hell not?” He nearly yelled and Hawke saw a Sten approach him from behind, the noble not noticing at all. Hawke glanced at the Arishok and saw he was still looking at her, she fought not to squirm.  
  
“Twenty sovereigns is a lot of money for a job.” Hawke said to him steadily. “That kind of money means someone is getting killed. Looking at you it’s likely political, you’re trying to blind me with money so I won’t see the danger I’d be in after the kill.” The noble turned bright red, revealing that Hawke had hit the nail on the head.   
  
“I don’t work for people like you.” She said as the noble huffed. “Not to mention that you dress hideously.” She added before settling back, done with the conversation. The Sten grabbed the noble by the collar of his hideous tunic and dragged him away to throw him out onto the street.

After a few more visitors the Arishok stood, Hawke had stopped listening, her arse numb and legs tingling from sitting on the stone for hours. The Arishok strode down the stairs, the Sten all moving away from the area except for hers who waited at the bottom expectantly. She stood, stretching out her muscles that were stiff from sitting in one position so long, and walked down to where the Qunari waited.  
  
“Alright Sten,” she said tiredly, rubbing her hand at the back of her neck. “What now?” He grunted in reply and walked away, leaving Hawke to try to match his pace again.

 

She was taken to a larger tent this time, the outside had a swathe of deep red fabric draped over the edge that fluttered in the breeze like a flag. The Sten walked in without pausing, and Hawke followed, stunned by the set up inside the tent.

In front of her was a table, similar to the one in the tent from last night but much larger with giant pillows surrounding it, a desk was at the rear of the tent flanked by bookshelves, the books on it looked as if they were meticulously ordered. A sheer panel of fabric sectioned off what looked like a mound of furs, likely a bed, and tucked by the bookshelves an armour and weapon rack stood with the biggest war axe that Hawke had ever seen.

The Sten pointed at a pillow beside the table and Hawke sat while looking about the tent curiously. She sunk into the large red cushion, crossing her legs underneath her so she wouldn’t slide off. The Sten picked up a ceramic jar from the bookshelf and placed it on the table, Hawke opened it and smelled the thick ointment inside, elfroot and something else she couldn’t place. The Sten placed a large bandage on the table also before circling back to Hawke. He grabbed the collar of her tunic and pulled the fabric down, opening the front and pushing it down her shoulders.  
  
“Hey!” Hawke protested as the Sten tried to wrangle her arm out of a sleeve. “You can _ask_ you know.” He grunted and started on her other arm, efficiently stripping her and pushing the fabric so it sat on her hips. Hawke angrily crossed her arms over her breasts but the Sten grabbed her arms again and placed them on the table, pushing Hawke by the shoulder so she would lean forward to rest on it.

“You guys sure don’t believe in foreplay do you?” She quipped, getting no reaction from the Sten. “I can’t believe you’re the _chatty_ one.”

The Sten scooped a large amount of ointment from the jar, somehow not getting it under his claw-like nails, and gently placed the thick substance at the top of her wound. It stung instantly and Hawke hissed, sending her back to the Deep Roads, Varric holding her down as Bethany poured the potion on her spine. A pang of guilt passed through her, she hadn’t thought about Bethany since she woke up, it was too hard.  
  
“Deep infection.” The Sten grumbled as he slowly patted the ointment onto her.  
  
“I have a healer friend.” Hawke mumbled from resting her head on her arms, “He can fix it, but he’s in Darktown so I’d have to go to him. You understand.”  
  
“It is better to heal naturally, Hawke.” Hawke’s head shot up at the Arishok’s voice, he had walked past her to the desk without making a sound. She stared at him as he shuffled through papers, not looking at her. He really wasn’t bothered by her presence at all. Hawke sighed and placed her head back down, resisting the urge to scream in frustration.

The Sten continued, he had hit a tender spot on her spine and she gasped, his response was to hold her side with his free hand to make sure she didn’t move and hinder his progress.   
  
“A few days and the stitches will be removed.” The Arishok said.  
  
“Will I be free to go then?” Hawke asked tentatively, her voice muffled by her arms.  
  
“When you have recovered.” He said, Hawke laughed in her arms, _recovered_ , sounded like a flimsy excuse. A finish line that would be forever put further and further away the more she reached for it. The Sten squeezed her side in warning, _don’t laugh at the Arishok_ , but Hawke was tired, numb. She couldn’t muster up care for anything.

The Arishok dropped a book by her on the table, without raising her head she lifted the old leather cover, seeing the paged scrawled with Qunlat. Unable to understand it she let the cover fall and shifted her head so she could watch the Arishok sit by the table, he managed to fold that bulk of muscle that was his body somehow and gracefully settled.   
  
“You have questions.” He rumbled. “About the female convert.” Hawke raised her eyebrows at him.  
  
“You could tell?” she asked surprised, she had tried to stay as still as possible all morning.  
  
“Yes.” Was all the answer he gave. Hawke pursed her lips and thought through all the questions running about in her mind, not many were about the woman and she was tempted to ask if she could go again.  
  
“Why did you accept her?” Hawke asked.  
  
“She had worth.” He answered, as if that should have answered her question.  
  
“But the man did not? He was a soldier, the woman was nearly crippled.”  
  
“The woman’s hands were calloused, her skin weathered from the sun. Despite her injury she worked through it, if given purpose she would be an asset. The man was trained, but his muscles had grown soft, he reeked of sick and drink. He was not looking for purpose but distraction.” Hawke thought for a moment, chewing on her lip.  
  
“You could smell him from so far away?” She asked and he bowed his head slightly. No wonder he disliked Kirkwall, it didn’t have the most pleasant smell. He opened the book and flick a few pages before finding what he was apparently after, he turned it to face Hawke and she lifted her head to look at the still undecipherable language.  
  
“The Qun is order, purpose. Just as we repair tools that have broken, people are repaired and returned to their purpose.” Hawke looked up at the Arishok who met her with his usual stare.  
  
“And that is why I am here?” Hawke asked bitterly. “To be _fixed_ and used by your hand as a tool?” She pushed away from the table only to be shoved back down by the Sten, who had reached the bottom of the gash. “I could have been healed and ready to fight by today if you hadn’t _summoned_ me.” She said angrily.  
  
“Without the same impact.” He said unperturbed by her outburst. “You stood before me a shell of what you once were. You reeked of death and cared not for yourself.” He growled in frustration. “This forsaken city is our prison until I have completed what is demanded by the Qun. You will assist me in this Hawke, or I will bring the fury of the Qun upon it.” His voice dangerously low and Hawke’s stomach dropped in nervousness. An invasion already within the city walls and he was blackmailing her with it? Hawke laughed, unsure of what other reaction she could have. Sten ushered her to sit straight and began to wrap a bandage around her torso as silence stretched between them.  
  
“I have assisted you in the past Arishok.” Hawke said quietly. “And if it avoids bloodshed I will continue to do so.” The Arishok bowed his head, his silver hair shifting as he did. “But you must send word to my companions that I am here. If they think I am missing, they will track me to here regardless.” He watched her, considering the proposal as the Sten wrapped the bandage over her breasts and tied it off. Hawke carefully shrugged her tunic back on and repositioned the belt, she leaned against the table and waited for his response.  
  
“Very well.” He conceded. “Word will be sent to this Darktown healer.” Hawke thanked the Arishok before being pulled to her feet by the Sten and removed from the tent.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What have they done to you?” Anders near growled as his hands reached up to gently touch her cheek.

Hawke sat on the stone stairs next to the Arishok, it seemed to be a part of the daily morning routine to observe him dealing with matters of ‘state’. Hawke found some of it interesting but most of it was much of the same, converts, merchants and nobles. The Arishok encouraged her to ask questions, his answers always relating back to the Qun which convinced Hawke that he was intending to have her become a Viddithari, although he never outright claimed as much.

Hawke had been sitting long enough that most of her vision had begun to fade out of boredom, she wasn’t suited for business or politics and disliked it all of the time. Leave the politics to the nobles. She wasn’t one, not yet anyway, and even after the money arrives in a few months time and she did get the title of Noblewoman, she would still avoid politics as much as possible.

The Arishok rumbled her name quietly and she looked up in confusion, looking around at the Qunari leaning against the stone walls staring at her expectantly, the Arishok raised an eyebrow as if she were wasting his time and she snapped her head to the audience area to see what she had missed while she was daydreaming.

At the bottom of the stairs Fenris stood in front of Varric and Anders and they all seemed very stressed. Hawke nearly bolted from her rug, her muscles jerking from the compulsion before she composed herself and leaned towards Arishok slowly, lifting her hand to rest on the arm of his stone chair she asked for permission to go to them.

He studied her for a moment before gesturing for her to go and she couldn’t hold back her grin, painfully and probably flashing the audience with parts of her they didn’t need to see, she stood and made her way down the stairs.

Ears ringing from relief at seeing familiar faces her hands automatically went to Fenris’ shoulders as he greeted her.  
  
“The hell have you done, Hawke?” he rumbled half in jest as he squeezed her shoulder. She smiled apologetically at him before reaching for Varric behind Fenris and stepping to clasp at his arm, slipping away from Fenris completely she raised her hand to cup Anders’ jaw, nodding to him in comfort as he restrained himself from pulling her to his chest and scolding her. Varric stepped close and whispered to her, placing his hand on her hip as he did to get her attention.  
  
“Do you need an out?” He asked glancing around at the tall grey giants who watched them passively, he was asking her if she needed an escape plan but she didn’t. She was free to go as long as she was willing to let Kirkwall burn.  
  
“What have they done to you?” Anders near growled as his hands reached up to gently touch her cheek. Fenris shifted to stand sideways to them, still facing the Arishok in respect as he listened to his friends.  
  
“No,” Hawke said to Varric before looking to Anders to answer his question. “And nothing. Besides a lack of privacy and sleepy-time tea. Apparently I am here to _recover_.” Anders frowned and shook his head.  
  
“You can do that at home.” Anders said confused and Hawke struggled to hide the pain on her face as she became acutely aware of the scratches on her cheek.  
  
“Or at the Hanged Man.” Varric added quickly, giving her a sympathetic smile. “Either way you need to come back, being among the Qunari might not be the best idea right now, what with the- uh- _political tensions_.”  
  
“Not to mention you’re injured.” Anders said bluntly as he gaped the collar of her tunic slightly, trying to peek for injuries. The Arishok’s voice rumbled loud and clear in warning.  
  
“ _Hawke._ ” She glanced back at the imposing giant, still sitting at the top of the stairs as her hand gently brushed Anders’ away from her person, she shook her head at the mage slightly.  
  
“I think our time is ending.” Fenris said quietly. “We were unwelcome visitors, Anders came to us when he received word.”  
  
“Can’t keep me away.” Anders quipped and gave her a sideways smile which she returned.  
  
“I’ll be fine.” Hawke reassured them. “They’ve been looking after me- in their own way.”  
  
“I’ll organise for another visit soon.” Fenris said, “I’m sure your Mother and Bethany would want to ensure you’re okay.” Hawke felt her stomach drop and jerked away from Fenris as he tried to place a comforting hand on her shoulder. She let out a shaky breath as Anders and Fenris looked her over with concern and Varric looked at the ground.   
  
The Sten approached the group, signalling it was time for them to leave. Warily Fenris bowed and left, followed by Varric who squeezed her hand as he walked past. Anders took a step before spinning on his heels and pulling her into an embrace, gently pressing his lips against the corner of her mouth as she jumped in surprise. It took a second to register before she was turning her head to crush her lips against his, desperate and craving the comfort he offered.

The Sten put one large hand on Anders’ shoulder and pulled him away, pushing him towards the gate to the docks with a grunt. Hawke was left to stand stunned and surrounded by Qunari men, a blush pinking her gaunt cheeks as they all began to leave, the Arishok done with dealing with outsiders for one day.

 

The Sten guided her back into the baths and gestured for her to remove her tunic. Surprised that the Sten asked, even with just a wave of his hand, Hawke complied and slipped out of the tunic. The Sten promptly began unwinding the bandage with dexterous fingers, rolling the bandage as it unwound. As the bandage freed her breasts she moved to cover them, clearly the only one who cared about nudity, the whole point mute since she was still naked from the waist down. Her mind was still reeling over Anders’ sudden kiss and she bit her lip thinking about the sensation of his stubble against them.

The bandage gone the Sten prodded and examined the wound, growling to himself as Hawke hissed when he poked a tender part.  
  
“Infection better,” he growled from somewhere behind her, “more healing needed.” She sighed and nodded absently.  
  
“It exposed my spine.” She told him and he paused. “Without magic it will take a long time to heal.” He grunted and led her to the hot baths, scooping her up he lowered her in and left her to sink into the water.

 

Hawke had closed her eyes as she relaxed, nearly dozing off under the afternoon sun, she didn’t know how to get out without stepping onto the coals so unless the Sten came back to scoop her out she would just become soup.

A scraping caused her to open her eyes and she could see a Qunari stripping out of the corner of her eye before he shifted a large stone to use as a step to avoid the coals on his bare foot. Hawke had a “ _huh_.” Moment of thinking that the stone step was clever before she realised that the Qunari was her Sten. And he was climbing into her tub.

She shrinked back to the edge as he swung his leg in casually, dropping several small cloth packages into the water which smelled strongly of a mixture of herbs. He hovered a moment before sinking into the water, giving Hawke a very up close view of his anatomy before she looked away, trying to blame her flushed cheeks on the heat of the bath.

He pulled her forward and guided her to lean against the opposite edge of the bath, exposing her back to him.  
  
“Kneel.” He rumbled, and in any other situation Hawke’s brain wouldn’t have gone straight to the innuendo- okay she was kidding herself. It would have. She complied and the motion lifted her back out of the water, allowing the Sten to gently place the packages onto her wound before he leaned back and relaxed, one leg splayed either side of Hawke’s kneeling form. She risked a glance at him from under her arm and noticed many scars across his torso as the heat pinked the scarred flesh.  
  
“That’s a lot of scars.” She said and he grunted. “How’d you get them?” she waited for a response and got none, a couple of minutes later he flicked the poultices off her back and let them float in the bath. She sighed and turned, her knees hurting against the hard surface of the bath, beyond a care for privacy she sat back and pulled her knees to her chest, pointing to a fleshy scar near her collarbone she decided that she could at least talk _at_ him.

“I got this one from Coterie thug, crossbow bolt that lodged, couldn’t get it out because the bastard had barbed bolts – honestly who the fuck has _barbed bolts_ \- had to cut it out myself.” The Sten took interest, gazing at the scar and twitching his facial muscles, she raised her arm to show a line of torn dots at the crook of her elbow. “Wolf up near the mountain, my friend Fenris beheaded him while he was still attached. I gave him shit about it, beheading his own kind- because- his name.” Sten stared at her incredulously, “-means wolf… anyway.”

Raising her arm further she pointed to a long pale scar beside her breast.

“Tal’Vashoth ambush.” Kneeling up she exposed her abdomen, showing another long line trailing from her hip down below the waterline. “Another Tal’Vashoth ambush. It was a busy day.” The Sten smirked as she sunk back into the water. “What’s that one?” she asked pointing at a long ragged scar on his shoulder, he held her gaze.  
  
“Tevinter soldier.” He rumbled and she nodded.  
  
“Are they all from Tevinter?” she had heard about the never-ending wars between the Qunari and the 'Vints and it wouldn’t surprise her if most of his scars were from there.  
  
“Yes.” He stood and Hawke had to suddenly avert her gaze again, he climbed out quickly and put on his clothes before reaching in to pluck her out of the water, wiping off any red war paint that had transferred again before allowing her to dress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The 'E' rating is pre-emptive but not far off. Hope you're enjoying it so far. :D


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You are displaced, Hawke, far from your purpose.”

The Arishok’s tent was warm as she was directed to sit on a cushion. She had been a patient of the Qunari for nearly a week and she wasn’t sure if they thought if she had made any progress at all.

After Fenris, Anders and Varric had visited days ago no one else had come to see her, or if they had they were turned away at the gate. She didn’t find it so bad living with the Qunari, they all had purpose and a duty- which Hawke struggled with, even to the point she felt like a petulant child when the Arishok droned on about the Qun- but they were all kind and content.

She didn’t speak to anyone but the Arishok and Sten, not particularly feeling the need to or knowing what she would even talk to them about. She did take time to watch them train in a proving ground was constructed out of wooden beams and crates and sand piled in the boundaries, the Qunari fought with their weapons – not wooden training weapons – and usually the first to draw blood was the winner but they could opt to continue on, which most of them did. Hawke was itching to have a go, she just wasn’t used to being idle and it worked on her nerves, especially when fighting was her release from stress and she had been denied it for some time.

 

The Arishok strode in without looking at her, for a giant he stepped quietly even with metal armour plated boots. With spikes. Hawke watched him patiently as he sat and signed a few papers on his desk, when it became clear he wasn’t going to move or address her she slumped her head into her hands, tired from nights of broken sleep.  
  
“The tea you are provided with at night will help you sleep without dreams.” The Arishok rumbled from his desk without looking at her, Hawke sighed into her hands, not looking at him either.  
  
“I’d rather not be sedated.” She said quietly, she had never preferred it unless she was in agony, anxious over not being able to wake up if she really needed to like when the Templars visited her home at night asking questions.  
  
“You willingly drank the tea on your first night. You are beginning to become yourself again.” He said before standing up and undoing his outer armour, placing it on the armour stand by his desk. Even without the massive red pauldrons he was extremely broad shouldered.  
  
“Does that mean I’m closer to going home?” Hawke asked and the Arishok sunk gracefully onto the pile of cushions across from her.  
  
“Do you have a home to go to?” He asked and Hawke inwardly grimaced, that was, _blunt._ “You are displaced, Hawke, far from your purpose.”   
  
She sighed and scrubbed her face, looking the Arishok in his dark eyes, he had let his hair loose and the silver white strands fell forward over his shoulders, accenting his grey skin. His horns were massive, sweeping back before curling at the ends, some parts wrapped in gold. He breathed steadily and Hawke couldn’t help but watch as his war paint moved along with his chest, his golden necklace sitting perfectly aligned with his sternum.  
  
“I don’t have a purpose.” She said flatly. “I achieved what I set out to do.”  
  
“Then I will give you a new purpose. But first-”  
  
“But first I need to be repaired because I’m a _tool_. I get it.” Hawke said dryly, and she could feel the disapproval emanating from Sten who was waiting patiently on the other side of the tent’s entrance. The Arishok smirked and reached to a table beside him, pulling across a dusty bottle of brown liquid and two small cups fashioned from animal horn.  
  
“Sten told me you were sharing war stories with him.” He rumbled and Hawke held up her hand in confusion.  
  
“Okay, when does Sten _actually_ talk?” She asked exasperated and the Arishok raised an eyebrow at her, missing the sarcasm in her question.  
  
“He gives a full report every night.” He stated as if it was not a mystery. Of course Sten was reporting on her, which was probably the whole point of him chaperoning her this whole time, Hawke felt a little silly for not realising it. “He has also said that you do not talk to anyone but him and myself, even when engaged by others.”  
  
“I don’t have much to say.” She said dismissively as he poured the liquid into the cups and place one in front of her.  
  
“And yet you are known for never being silent.” He jibed, the comment going straight to her heart. He motioned for her to drink and she picked up the cup tentatively, it was alcohol- _strong_ alcohol and she could swear her throat was burning just from the smell. She took a tentative sip and the liquid burned like fire all the way to her stomach where it pleasantly smouldered.  
  
“ _Lovely._ ” She croaked as she suppressed a cough. Now if only the Hanged Man had _that_ behind the bar. The Arishok smiled before drinking all of his in one gulp, usually Hawke wouldn’t be one to be out drunk, but she decided it would be best to let him be the better man right now.  
  
“Your physical wounds are healing well, but we must now discuss the wounds in your mind.” He poured himself another drink. “There are no Ben-Hassrath in this forsaken city, so I will do what I can.”  
  
“Ben-what-what?” Hawke asked and the Arishok frowned, annoyed at being interrupted.  
  
“Ben-Hassrath, re-educators.” He rumbled and an elf came in with a platter of foods, gently placing it on the table between them and bowing before leaving.  
  
“Sounds painful.” Hawke surmised, the Arishok grunted.  
  
“If need be. Eat.” He gestured to the plate before picking up a chunk of meat himself and tearing at it with his sharp teeth. Hawke picked up a piece of bread and tore it into a small piece before popping it into her mouth, washing it down with the strangely addictive alcohol.  
  
“So,” Hawke leaned back gently into the mound of pillows, mindful of her wound, “If I can’t be re-educated, what do you intend to do?”  
  
“That is the reason for this conversation. I need you to be the warrior you once were so you may succeed where my Qunari have failed.”  
  
“And you cannot do this with the Qun?” Hawke asked out of curiosity, watching his giant hands as they tore apart food.  
  
“If it could be done than I would have already been successful.” He admonished. “Tell me what you and your warriors do when faced with happiness or frustration.” Hawke huffed and ran her fingers through her hair, pulling her red hair to fall down the side of her neck.  
  
“Well-” she tried to think of any way her friends reacted to anything. Only three things came to mind. “Fighting to exhaustion makes _me_ feel better, my friends prefer to drink I guess. A couple of them are –or were- promiscuous.” She thought of Isabela and how months ago she got roaring drunk, started a fight and then fucked the man she was punching. “One likes to do all three really.”  
  
“Sten has reported on your time watching the other Sten train.” Hawke took another drink and thought how weird it would be to live somewhere where most of the inhabitants had the same name as her. “But you have not healed enough yet.” Hawke finished her drink and chuckled as she realised she was tipsy, the Arishok automatically poured her another.  
  
“Well at least I’m well on my way with the drinking.” The Arishok hummed as he watched her sink further down into the pillows and sigh.  
  
“The drink will make you useless, broken like the soldier we refused days ago.” Hawke huffed stubbornly as the Arishok reprimanded her.  
  
“Then there is nothing left.” Hawke said crankily. “Nothing but _time_ until I can fight again.” The Arishok gave her a tired look, leaning back on his pillow mound he stared her down.  
  
“There is always something.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “And Sten is not right? Are you offended that he is Qunari?” the Arishok asked with a hint of danger in his voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW

Hawke walked into the tent she slept in, the other two beds still unused, she hadn’t seen anyone enter the tent but herself and the chatty elf the first day she arrived. Sighing she slumped on the bed and threw her arm over her eyes to block out the candlelight she forgot to snuff, her head still spinning a little from the drink, and wondered just how long she would be living in this tent.

The entrance ruffled and Hawke lifted her arm to see Sten entering before she lowered it again.  
  
“It’s not morning _yet_ is it?” she sighed as she heard him approach. Waiting for the response she knew he wouldn’t give she instead felt the straw mattress shift under extra weight and blearily lifted her arm again to see the Sten propped above her, hands and knees on the mattress.

“Uh- Hello. Sten.” She said at a loss for other words, smoothly he leaned down with a smirk, his long grey, braided hair sliding to brush at her skin, propping himself up on his elbow he kissed her collarbone delicately before pulling at the entrance of her tunic, making it gape open.

Hawke’s skin tingled at the contact, as if it was starved of it, and her heart thudded in anticipation. Placing her hand gently on his shoulders she pushed him up until he was propped on both hands again, looking at her patiently.

“I’m not complaining.” She said quietly as the Sten gazed at her, “But I’m going to need a little more information here.”  
  
“You cannot fight.” He said simply. “This is the alternative.” Hawke blinked before scrubbing at her eyes with the palm of her hand and groaned. Her and her big mouth.  
  
“I appreciate it Sten, but it is not needed.” He frowned and leaned down, breathing deep from the skin of her neck.  
  
“You smell of need.” He said flatly before licking the skin, she jerked as his rough tongue sent sparks across her skin. “Your heart is pounding.”  
  
“Telling me I’m _desperate_ isn’t helping you know.” She gasped before getting her wits together and pushing him back again. “If I can’t fight, I can’t fuck.” She informed him. “The movements will injure me anyway.”  
  
“Yes, but it is best that you do not move. You are… small. I do not want to injure you further.”  Hawke felt a blush blaze across her cheeks as her mind struggled with the mechanics of trying to bed a Qunari, eventually it gave up in confusion. Shaking her head she pushed him upright and struggled with sitting up herself, Sten watched her offering no support but waiting patiently.  
  
“Thank-you, Sten.” She said as she straightened up. “But I am afraid I cannot do this with you.” He nodded and stood, unperturbed by her rejection. He left the tent and took up his post, leaving her to wonder if she should have taken him up on his offer after all, and just when exactly the Sten _slept._

 

The next morning saw the same routine. Wake up, sit next to the Arishok as he insulted dignitaries, awkward bath time with Sten. Hawke began to wonder if being here was doing her any good, or at least progressing her towards the goal that the Arishok had set for her.

She found herself by the training grounds again watching the Qunari fight bare handed. Excitedly she watched every bout, her muscles twitching as she anticipated her own counter moves. Smiling she cheered with the others as each competitor won, enjoying herself as dusk settled over the compound. Eventually Sten approached and took her away to plonk her back down onto the large cushion in the Arishok’s tent.

The Arishok was reading silently as she sat and without looking up from his book he poured her a drink of the alcohol from the night before. She quietly thanked him and took a sip of the burning alcohol.  
  
“Sten reports that you did not find him suitable.” The Arishok said flatly and Hawke near choked on the liquid. She looked at him incredulously as she wiped a drop of liquid from her lip.  
  
“You ordered him to fuck me?” she asked in astonishment and the Arishok put his book away to look at her as if she were being petulant.  
  
“You informed me of three methods to assist you.” He chided her. “The first two were not acceptable in your circumstance so we chose the third option.” Hawke just stared at him with a stunned look.  
  
“Is sex so simple for the Qunari?” she asked and the Arishok frowned in confusion.  
  
“Yes.” He said flatly, taking a drink from his own cup. “Is it not?” Hawke laughed thinking of Isabela, yes it was sometimes, for some people.  
  
“Not for me.” She said. “I kinda need the right person.”  
  
“And Sten is not right? Are you offended that he is Qunari?” the Arishok asked with a hint of danger in his voice.  
  
“ _No._ ” Hawke insisted and sighed as her point didn’t get across. “I like Sten. He’s a great conversationalist and easy on the eyes but he’s just not for me.”  
  
“He is unsuitable.” The Arishok nodded and Hawke sighed and nodded in confirmation. “I understand.” He rumbled as he stood up and walked to the entrance of the tent, Hawke saw the shadow of Sten leave and she felt a pang of guilt. She hoped he wasn’t in trouble because of her.

 

The Arishok took the cup from her hand and placed it out of her reach, Hawke looked up at him with a slight pout and took it as a sign that she should leave. Standing carefully she bowed to the Arishok out of politeness. As she straightened she felt a massive hand gently touch her hip and another cup the back of her head, she was pulled forward, her hand flying up to steady herself on his broad chest and his lips met hers in a sudden crush.

Her heart thrumming in her chest she had a moment of inner protest before the feel of his rough tongue slid across her lower lip and she felt her spine melt in pleasure. With a plaintive sound she allowed him to pull her in further, his tall bulk towering over her meant she had to arch backwards to meet his lips, bringing a slight sound of pain from her throat. Hearing this, or perhaps just remembering her injury, he ran his hands down and lifted her effortlessly by her thighs, bringing her legs to straddle his hips and allowing her to meet his kiss without resistance. One hand supported her by her arse while the other gently cupped her back. She let her arms wrap around his neck and one hand slide up into his silver hair to knead at his scalp and he growled in appreciation.

As their kiss broke away his mouth continued down her neck, roughly biting and sucking the length of her pale skin. She gasped and held onto his bulk as he walked slowly past the length of fabric to where the pile of furs were kept.  
  
“You know,” she whispered, unable to keep quiet for long. “I’m not sure you did understand what I was saying.” She gasped as he knelt down and placed her gently on the furs. They were amazingly comfortable and instantly warm against her skin. The Arishok smiled, something Hawke was sure she had never seen before as he reached up and undid the tie of her tunic with a jerk.  
  
“What you say and what you mean differ.” His voice rumbled as he knelt back and regarded her. “Is dishonesty a trait of your personality?” Hawke felt put on the spot as he unhooked a cloth from a nearby table and carefully wiped off the red war paint that had transferred from his torso to her thigh.  
  
“Not generally, no.” She spoke as she watched his movements, no one could accuse her of being dishonest. Brutally honest maybe. “Why can’t the paint touch my skin?” she asked with a frown and the Arishok looked up and regarded her. “Sten does the same.” She added in explanation.  
  
“It is poison.” He said and she raised her eyebrows in surprise. She was glad they were keeping it off her, _guess they’re not trying to kill me then._

The Arishok gracefully moved forward and leaned over her, her hand reaching up to trace along his chest, avoiding the red lines. As she did he flicked open her tunic, revealing her skin and she watched as his grey skinned hand traced along her stomach in a mimic of her actions. He smirked as his finger traced the long scar on her stomach, his claw-like fingernail scratching and causing her to shiver which left her in a gasp. Happy with her reaction he retraced the same spot with his tongue, the odd roughness of it pleasant against her skin as he licked further down, delicately biting at her flesh with his impossibly sharp teeth.

Hawke just about bucked off of the furs when his tongue glided over her sex, parting her to circle her clit slowly as she made pathetic whimpering sounds. He held her thighs tightly against his shoulders, her knees hooking over them to keep her from thrashing about too much, an inhuman growl of appreciation reverberated over her sensitive flesh and she keened from the sensation, two years of fighting bandits for stress relief taking its toll as she became overwhelmed by the intimacy, her heart pounding and breath coming quick and shallow. She propped up on her elbow to get a better look at him and he met her gaze with dark, lust-hazed eyes.  
  
“I will be careful.” He spoke in between laving his tongue against her, whether it was directed at her or to himself Hawke had no idea, she was beyond caring in any case. “You are small.”  
  
“I’m considered quite large for my kind you know.” Hawke weakly protested and was met with an ‘ _of course you are, now be quiet_ ’ smirk before he very gently pushed one ridiculously large finger into her, curling it up to hit her sweet spot she moaned before letting herself fall back onto the furs again. With a satisfied hum the Arishok continued his attentions on her and Hawke realised in the back of her mind that he was methodically adjusting his movements based on her vocal reactions, finding the best routine to keep her writhing and near begging.

Another finger stretching her brought her back up in an arch and his hand had to move from her thigh to her stomach to gently pressure her to lie flat again- it wouldn’t do for her to reopen her wound now.  
  
“Be still.” He commanded and she fought to relax her muscles, to stop writhing beneath his hand. “I will stop if you are injured.” With that threat she took a deep breath and stilled, forcing her body to comply. The combination of his fingers pumping in and out with the rough heat of his tongue pushed her over the edge, her orgasm tightening her around the offending digits and spilling out of her mouth in a ragged moan his hand shifted to gently hold her hip, helping her ride through the bliss before he licked her other hip and bit the flesh above it with a growl.

In her afterglow she felt his bulk hover over her, opening her eyes she could see him smirking at her, the ruby red of blood tinting the corner of his mouth from where he had bitten her. She wrapped her blissfully weak arms around his shoulders and curled up to lick at the smear of blood, a hungry growl escaping his lips as she did.  
  
“You must rest now, Hawke.” He rumbled as his hand idly ran over her breast, she smiled and bit her lip, shaking her head in response.  
  
“Not until you are satisfied.” She purred and ran her hand down his muscled stomach to pull at the leather ties of his pants, his hand cupped hers to still it and he let out a restrained groan.  
  
“You may be tall for a human female,” he growled and flicked his tongue along her lower lip, eliciting a heated gasp from her. “But you are still too tight for a Qunari male.” She grinned as her fingers still worked at the lacing.  
  
“I think you are underestimating my ability to adapt.” She purred through the implication and she felt him smile along the skin of her neck before he nipped at it.  
  
“Hawke.” He chided and worked his way along her neck. “Do not tempt me, even among my own people I am considered well-endowed.” He warned flatly without bragging. Her fingers finally freed the laced and her hand snaked into the front of his pants, palming his erect cock she mentally confirmed his statement, not that it put her off at all. He groaned and twitched in her hand, the heat radiating from him a stark contrast to the coolness of her skin.  
  
“A good test of my resolve then.” She breathed and his hand left hers to push apart her legs, quickly finding her sex and pushing his fingers inside, moving them to stretch her. She gasped at the onslaught and squeezed his cock, attempting to get some movement within the confines of his pants. His fingers slid out and he met her dazed eyes with dark, controlled ones of his own and gave her a chaste kiss. She felt more fingers return to rest at her entrance and she felt the faint stirring of doubt in the pit of her stomach.  
  
“You will tell me if I must stop.” He ordered and she nodded, the press of fingers instantly stretching her enough to halt her breath, her body trembling as her arms wrapped around the Arishok’s shoulders as if she were holding onto him for survival. “Breathe.” He told her calmly and she forced herself to take steady breaths. Slowly his fingers slid into her, ever careful of the claws, the pleasurable burn grounding Hawke. At some point the Arishok deemed it suitable and flexed his fingers, a moan escaping Hawke in a ragged half scream as her mind tried to decide if she was in pleasure or pain.

Gently and infuriatingly slowly he pulled his hand out and stood, leaving Hawke on the furs. She was ready to protest his absence when he stepped to a small table and slid his pants off, giving her a good view of his behind. Hawke smiled to herself in appreciation as he picked up a bottle and uncorked it with his teeth, pouring the contents into his hand and onto the shaft of his cock, stroking himself a few times before replacing the cork and setting the bottle back to its proper placement.

He turned to face her and Hawke got to appreciate him completely, the red war paint still perfect on his grey skin, his broad muscled body moving gracefully towards her as his erection jutted from his body ready for her. Her stomach rolled in anticipation and pleasure as he sunk to his knees and propped himself up, idly stroking himself as his gaze raked over her. As he leaned closer her hand automatically went to run through his long silver hair, giving her something to anchor herself to as she wrapped her arms around him, his lips skirted along her neck, seemingly one of his favourite places to be, and her heart thudded in anticipation. She felt the head of his cock press against her, feeling larger than it looked, and with a groan he slowly pushed into her, her hips lifting with the movement as she was stretched impossibly wide.

Her laboured breathing as he gently worked himself into her prompted the Arishok to insist that she relaxed and controlled her breathing, she battled to do so as she felt waves of burning pleasure course through her and a large hand gripping her thigh and spreading her legs wider. His growls almost echoed in the tent as he forced himself to go slowly, barely over half of him was sheathed in her when she felt him hit the end of her, a surprised moan from her signalled him to stop and he stilled while she whimpered and moaned, adjusting to his thickness. With a grin he kissed her passionately, his tongue taking no preamble before thrusting inside of her mouth, sliding along her own. Slowly he pulled back before setting a slow pace to fuck her, her near constant moans stifled by his mouth.

Hawke had never felt anything like the overwhelming, forceful heat that was sliding into her, forcing her to accommodate him with each movement. The fullness was oddly comforting as her head fell back and her eyes rolled up in pleasure, the Arishok hitting her end with a satisfying pain on each thrust and his breath became ragged, less controlled while his movements were nothing but controlled and precise.

Hawke realised dimly that if he should lose control that she could be badly hurt given the size and power of him, but it didn’t register in her mind enough for concern. Her body teetered on the brink of orgasm again, the heavy pooled warmth sitting in her abdomen ready to spill over, each thrust added to the weight but she needed more to get there.  
  
“A-Arishok.” She gasped and his movements slowed a fraction as his head turned so he could see her out of the corner of his eye.  
  
“Shall I stop?” he asked cautiously and Hawke held him tighter just in case he came to the conclusion on his own. She swallowed trying to remember what words were and how to use them to tell him what she needed, eventually she managed to scrape together a thought.  
  
“No,” she gasped, “harder.” She could have sworn he almost laughed at her demand.  
  
“No.” he refused flatly, deciding the limits of her body for her. With a frustrated growl she slapped his shoulder, pushing at him enough that he pulled out and lay beside her with a blank look on his face. Hawke rolled up and pushed his shoulder down so he was on his back and straddled him, if he wasn’t going to give her what she needed, she would damn well take it for herself.   
  
“Hawke.” The Arishok warned but it was unheeded as she reached between them and directed his cock into her, slowly sliding down the new position made it harsher to accommodate him but it was what she wanted. His hands flew to her hips to assist her controlling her movements because while the Arishok; Pillar of the Qun and general of its armies had impeccable control, Grae Hawke; Fereldan refugee and Lowtown mercenary was decidedly lacking in it.

Biting her lip Hawke rode the Arishok, his cock hitting her harder and further than before as ragged gasps escaped the both of them. His hands were gripping her hips painfully, the fingertips no doubt leaving bruises on her skin as she let her weight sink onto him. His thumb traced over her clit roughly before the weight in her spilled, shattering her with an orgasm that whited the edge of her vision, tensing, her whole body trembled and her breath caught in her throat, beneath her the Arishok growled and thrust up into her before coming, the heat from his seed spreading throughout her as she cried out.

The Arishok caught Hawke as she slumped forwards, gently lowering her to be cradled by his side, his arm around her protectively. Her eyelids fluttered in an attempt to stay open but she lost, the last thing she heard before sleep claimed her was the Arishok sighing in satisfaction. 


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I can’t.” she whispered. “Not yet, Varric you’ve trusted me so far,” He met her eyes tiredly, “I’m begging you to trust me now.”

The noises of the camp filtered through the tent as she awoke alone on the Arishok’s furs. Glancing around she found her tunic and sat up, pausing as her abdomen throbbed in a sharp pain reminding her of what she had done the night before. With a hiss she stood up and dressed herself, taking note of the myriad of bruises and scratches on her skin. Even though the Arishok had endeavoured to be careful with her, it seemed that she was more fragile than they thought, especially when under giant grey, clawed hands.

Wandering to the entrance of the tent she poked her head and and found Sten standing, waiting for her patiently to wake up. He glanced down at her and walked off, deciding she was ready for the day.

After a quick bath she climbed the stairs up to the Arishok’s makeshift throne. He looked at her impassively before gesturing to the spot beside him that she usually occupied. On the rug that she had come to memorise the pattern of was a large cushion similar to the ones in the Arishok’s tent, she smirked to herself, thankful that the Qunari were considerate enough to think of the pain she might be in after spending the night with their leader. It should have bothered her that with the simple gesture that everyone in the compound now knew what she had done, but she realised that she had been staying with the Qunari long enough to know that they wouldn’t have cared at all. She sat delicately on the cushion and watched the first nobleman walk into the courtyard to ask for a favour.

It had been a couple of hours and Hawke was idly flicking a grain of sand along the cushion with her fingernail when the Arishok hummed, a sound that he rarely made while meeting with outsiders, usually it was just _no_ or an accepting grunt. Hawke glanced up to the courtyard which was empty of guests before looking up questioningly to the Arishok. He shifted in his seat and leaned closer, his voice rumbling down to her.  
  
“The next group is for you.” He said and Hawke frowned, looking to the courtyard as Fenris approached and bowed followed by Anders, Varric and her mother.

Her stomach flipped in anxiety as she watched her mother approach, still holding her air of noblewoman pride from her youth. Absently Hawke’s hand reached up to touch the armrest of the Arishok’s throne to steady herself, it was probably her imagination that the Arishok's arm shifted towards her slightly, but the wary expressions on her friends' faces were not imaginary.

Fenris bowed and it was echoed by the others, he addressed the Arishok while Varric, Anders and Leandra watched Hawke with varying degrees of concern.  
  
“Speak.” The Arishok demanded of Fenris who stepped forwards.  
  
“Thank you for allowing us to have an audience with you.” Fenris started formally, speaking in common rather than Qunlat for the benefit for his companions. “We have come with concerns over Hawke’s wellbeing.” Anders stepped forward and Hawke could see Fenris get agitated at the movement of the mage.  
  
“We are thankful that you have taken it upon yourself to ensure her health.” Anders said tactfully, which honestly surprised Hawke, in the time that she had known him she hadn't witnessed much in the way of diplomacy. “However as a healer I know it is best to recover in a familiar environment. With your permission we would like to take her home.”   
  
The Arishok did not move at all, only let out a rumbled _‘No’._

Her friends bristled and glanced at each other at the refusal. Leandra, her mother, took a deep breath and surged forwards, the hands of the men holding her back as she did.  
  
“You cannot keep her here, the Viscount will see it as an act of war.” She spat and Hawke inwardly cringed, trying to remain still and not show her disappointment in the less than thought out plan of her companions. The Arishok slowly stood, his massive bulk imposing to the people around him, Fenris hissed at Leandra telling her to shut up, wary of the danger they were now in.  
  
“Hawke is free to go whenever she chooses.” He growled to them and they froze, glancing at Hawke who wouldn’t meet their eyes. “She came here willingly after being cast out by her own, this _Bas_ female pushes for war when the one she chose to exile strives to prevent it.” He growled at them and paced slowly along the platform, anger filling his eyes and making Hawke nervous. “This is typical of the filth of this city, that you mewl and make demands when you have neither the knowledge nor means. I urge you, run screeching to your Viscount, and should he care enough to act he will see that the Qun remains strong even here.”

Hawke inwardly scolded them for being so stupid as to bring Leandra here, any progress she had made here could easily be undone by their meddling and she realised that perhaps she _had_ made headway here, that whatever the Qunari were trying to do was working.

Hawke struggled with her indecision, trying to decide what to do. If she sat by quietly this time then her friends may be prompted to do something drastic, thinking that she was under duress, but if she interfered with the Arishok’s authority, would he deem it necessary to keep her here longer?  
  
“Apologies, Arishok.” Fenris said as he bowed, trying to smooth over the chaos of the situation. “We only wished to know if Hawke was well, if we could speak to her-”  
  
“No.” the Arishok growled angrily. “You will take the _Bas_ and leave.” He ordered and some Sten stepped forward threateningly, Hawke stood with a speed that surprised herself but she couldn’t hide the wince that flashed over her face as her abdomen and back twinged in pain. The Arishok glared at her for the movement and she bowed in respect, wary of his temper.  
  
“Allow me to speak with them, Arishok.” Hawke said quietly as he rounded on her, standing close enough so he would not be overheard by others.  
  
“Why?” he demanded to know. “Their intentions are not truthful here.”  
  
“They are dishonest because they do not understand.” She said quietly, glancing to them she saw them slowly move into position to defend themselves if attacked. “If they leave now without hearing from me they will return and do something stupid, let me explain to them why I am remaining.” Hawke pleaded with her eyes and the Arishok regarded her for a moment.  
  
“They confuse your purpose.” He said flatly.  
  
“They _are_ my purpose.” Hawke countered. “I could let Kirkwall burn happily if it weren’t for them, if you want me to assist you then I need reassure them that I am alright.” The Arishok looked to glare at the group who were glancing around nervously, unarmed they didn’t stand much of a chance against the grey giants.   
  
“Whatever it is you need me to do, I cannot do it without them. Let me stop them from making a mistake.” She pleaded quietly and the Arishok nodded once, turning to sit back on his throne. Permission given the Sten backed off and Hawke walked calmly down to them.

 

They watched her approach warily, still holding Leandra back from making sudden movements, Hawke stopped close enough to be able to speak quietly to them but didn’t greet them happily as she did the time before.  
  
“At what point did you think that this was a good plan?” She scolded them and they glanced away from her.  
  
“They’ve been refusing to allow us access.” Anders hissed. “We thought you were dead.”  
  
“If I were dead they would give my body to you. They’re not exactly subtle.” She reprimanded him and he pouted like a scolded child. She looked at Varric and he gave her a weary smile. “I told you I didn’t need an out.” She reminded him and he sighed.  
  
“I don’t like this Hawke.” Fenris rumbled, “The Qunari don’t take interest in outsiders like this.”  
  
“I’m not Viddithari.” She countered and saw a bit of tension leave their shoulders. “But I need to stay for the time being, take Leandra back and do _not_ return until I send for you.”  
  
“Hawke,” Varric spoke before he reached forward and touched her side lightly, his warm familiar hand comforting her more than she thought it would. “You’re freaking me out, you hobble your way over covered in bruises and telling us to fucking abandon you here.” Hawke glanced down before catching herself and squaring her shoulders, the bruises must have peeked through as she descended the stairs. “Tell me you’re not punishing yourself.” He asked quietly and she shook her head at him. “Then tell us what the _fuck_ is going on, because this demure self-sacrifice bullshit is _not_ the Grae Hawke I know.” He growled angrily as he removed his hand and pointed to the ground to make his point.   
  
She rested her hand on his shoulder to calm him and he sighed and scrubbed his face in frustration, dark circles under his eyes telling her that he had not been sleeping recently, probably Hawke's fault.  
  
“I can’t.” she whispered. “Not yet, Varric you’ve trusted me so far,” He met her eyes tiredly, “I’m begging you to trust me now.” With a sigh he nodded in acknowledgement and gripped the hand that was resting on his shoulder. “You should go.” She warned them and Anders huffed in frustration.  
  
“I’m not going anywhere without you.” Anders growled angrily and Hawke let go of Varric to grip the front of Anders’ robes and pull him to her threateningly, she noticed the stirring of the Sten at her aggressive movements and stilled so that they would not take it as a prompt to engage them. Hawke had barely realised what she was doing, grabbing her friend in anger, she briefly closed her eyes and tried to calm her temper.  
  
“Anders,” Hawke’s voice was low and threatening as she spoke through gritted teeth. “If you want me to get out of here intact you _will_ do as I say.” She closed her eyes to breathe steadily to calm herself.  
  
“Grae-” he whispered and she shook her head sharply, his hand reaching up to gently cover hers in concern.  
  
“No, I need to be here and you need to get Leandra away from here before she sparks a war.” He looked at her with hurt eyes and nodded, kissing her hand before Hawke released him. She stepped back from the group and gestured with her head for them to leave.  
  
“Grae you can’t do this.” Leandra sobbed as she was urged to move by Varric, Anders helped Varric usher the woman away and Fenris bowed to the Arishok before giving Hawke an indescribable look.  
  
“I hope you know what you’re doing.” He warned in his baritone voice and Hawke silently agreed. She really, really hoped she knew what she was doing.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “A test of your resolve,” He purred, “how much can you withstand before you beg me to stop?”

Patiently waiting in the Arishok’s tent she nibbled on a piece of spiced bread, she had been silent since sending her friends away the day before, doubtful thoughts over if she had made the right decision haunting her through the night. She hated it, being so unsure of herself, she couldn’t leave to lead her friends in battle with doubt dogging her every decision.

The Arishok folded himself onto the large pillow at the head of the small table, his usual place, and Hawke noticed the absence of his red war paint, it had begun to get smudged earlier in the day and must have been due to be redone. He regarded her silently before holding his hand out to her, she looked at it suspiciously before warily putting her small hand into his giant one, he pulled her closer, directing her to sit on his lap, her back to his chest.  
  
“It is time to remove your stitches.” He said casually as he pulled her tunic open and down her shoulders, shrugging it off her arms and baring her back to him. His hot hand on her skin made her shiver as he directed her to lean on the table, she crossed her arms on the wood and rested her head on her arms, closing her eyes as the Arishok fossicked in a small box beside him to produce a small, sharp blade.   
  
“I had thought you recovered yesterday.” He spoke to her as he flattened his hand on her back to keep her still. “But your silence now tells me otherwise.” She felt a tug and heard the stitch being cut followed by a slight sting as he pulled it out of her flesh. She sighed and hummed in response. “Is this doubt in yourself or in others?” he asked, hitting the issue squarely on the head.  
  
“Both.” She said quietly. “I doubt my decisions, my ability to lead others and their ability to follow.”  
  
“You did not have this doubt before you spoke to your companions.” He pointed out. “Perhaps you have grown used to how we live in the Qun, the order and purpose of it.” Hawke smiled into her arms as he pushed the Qun culture again, she couldn’t see herself living it.  
  
“I would make a poor Viddithari.” She admitted as another stitch came free, he was deft at removing them. “I need a bit of chaos in my life.” She half joked.  
  
“You are confusing passion with chaos.” He said flatly, “I believe you would find the Qun acceptable if you had an outlet for your frustrations and a means to express your passion.”  
  
“I don’t have the temperament for it, besides I don’t see the Qunari as being steeped in unbridled passion.” She teased and winced as the last stitch was pulled free from her lower back. The Arishok’s hands ran slowly down her back and she shivered in appreciation.  
  
“No, your temperament is not suitable for the Qun.” He agreed. “But you are wrong about the passion of its people.” His hands reached her hips and he pulled them further back into his lap, a surprised gasp leaving Hawke’s lips. “We do not copulate on the streets as the Bas do,” he said as his hands snaked around her thighs to brush past her sex and travel up her stomach. “we may look prudish and reserved to an outsider,” his hands reached her breasts and he cupped them, claw-like fingernails scratching on her skin lightly before he pulled her to him, leaning her against his chest and letting her head fall back to rest on his shoulder, his hands massaging the flesh it touched as Hawke hummed in contentment “But if we see something we desire we take it. Is that not passion to a human?”   
  
A hand snaked underneath the rumpled pile of tunic still tied around her waist and he began to explore her with his fingers, her hands reaching up to rub and scratch at his skin, causing a near inaudible moan to escape him.  
  
“We may fuck in the street,” Hawke breathed as his tongue flicked along the line of her neck, the giant’s hands working well to distract her from her thoughts. “But we are more than a base desire, we love people passionately, marry them. I have never heard of such a thing in the Qun.” Her hand reached behind her and palmed his erection that was trapped in the heavy material of his pants, he growled and bit her neck roughly in appreciation, licking at the small specks of blood that appeared in the indents on her skin.  
  
“You allow crude desire to blind you, attach you to others so you may breed without thought and when the passion fades you are left with a broken union.” Hawke slid off of him, directing him to lean back onto the mound of pillows and began to unlace his pants, as the fabric was shed she leaned in to kiss at the heated flesh of his erection, licking at the sensitive glans causing him to groan and bring his hand to caress her cheek softly. “Children are born to the best matched parents who have no obligation to raise them if it is not within their duty. But the Qun is not so unforgiving that we cannot take mates.” Hawke took him in both hands, steadily stroking and licking him, she didn’t try to take him in her mouth, she was certain she wouldn’t get far.  
  
“It seems unfeeling,” she said between licks. “To take the children away.”  
  
“It is unfeeling to us to force an unwilling parent into raising them, the risk of abuse and abandonment is high. But Qunari are raised by dedicated people who love them in their own way. No abuse, no starvation and all are given proper education.” He countered with laboured breaths, content to continue the political debate despite their growing intimacy.  
  
“Is their free will not taken away when they are assigned to their roles in the Qun?” she asked, licking a bead of precum from his slit while meeting his eyes, he smirked as he watched her, his thumb tracing along her cheekbone gently.  
  
“They choose their roles in their actions, one who has taken an interest in being a Tamassran and has the skills would not be recruited as a Sten. Their will remains free.” He reached down and pulled her up by her shoulders, settling her on his chest he kissed her as she suggestively ground down on him, her fingertips tracing along his horns delicately. “As much as it would please me to see you become a part of the Qun, I know that you cannot be if you are to succeed in the task before you.”  
  
“You think I am _recovered_ enough?” she asked teasingly as she bit and licked along his jaw.  
  
“You cannot resolve your concerns while hiding behind the Qunari. Tomorrow I will have some Sten take you wherever you wish to go, when you are ready you will return and we shall discuss it further then.” Hawke felt both glad and upset at the idea of leaving. While she had felt manipulated into staying she didn’t have to worry about much while being here, but he was right and she wouldn’t shake the doubts in her mind by hiding in the compound. The Arishok sensed her hesitation and cupped her face in his hand, bringing her lips to his gently.   
  
“Should you wish to return on business that does not concern your task, you are welcome to.” He added with a smirk before reaching between them and circling her clit with his fingertip. She whimpered and rocked into his hand, biting her lip lightly as he watched with a growing hunger.  
  
“What in Thedas will we do to pass the time?” she purred and he gave her a tight smile before kissing and biting at her lower lip until it was red and slightly swollen.  
  
“A test of your resolve,” He purred, “how much can you withstand before you beg me to stop?”


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “If you’re going to kill me,” Hawke said flatly, “do it. I’d rather be dead than around your filth any longer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three Chapters smooshed into one, enjoy!
> 
> This came late because I was an idiot and started another fic. Get some more Qunari love [here.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8468548/chapters/19402153)

It was around four in the morning when Hawke finally begged for the Arishok to stop and she managed to get a couple of hours of sleep before he woke her and gave back her leather greaves and daggers - which had a new holster made for it.

She slipped on the armour and boots in silence and shrugged on the tunic she had been given when she first arrived, tucking it loosely into the top of her leggings she wore beneath the leather. The holster slipped over her shoulders and connected to her greaves which meant she could wear it without a leather chest-piece, something that she could not do with her old holster. Her daggers shone in her hands, having been repaired, cleaned, sharpened and oiled while they were away from her. She reached behind her and clipped them onto the harness and inwardly squealed at how easy they were to attach and detach.

With a nod the Arishok said a silent farewell and Hawke followed her Sten and two others to the gate where they patiently waited for her to lead the way. She stepped out onto the cobblestone street and looked about at the surreal early morning quietness of Kirkwall and wondered about where she was going to go.

She thought about going back to her Uncle Gamlen’s house, to her mother, but the thought brought with it a stab of anxiety. She wasn’t sure she could talk to her yet even though it had been some weeks. She could go to Darktown, rest at Anders’ clinic – but then he’d want to give her an examination and the fresh aches and bruises on her body from the Arishok would need explaining and then Anders would probably get upset enough for Justice to pay a visit and she doubted she could handle that either.

Aveline? Too much explaining.

Merrill? _Far_ too much explaining.

Fenris would be asleep and she didn’t dare break into his home while he was sleeping, she didn’t want to die.

Isabela… she didn’t actually know _where_ Isabela stayed, which was a pity because she would ask the least questions and just let Hawke sleep, which is really what she wanted to do. She thought for a moment about Varric and dreaded the scolding of a lifetime he would give her. Sten stepped up and looked to her expectantly and she sighed, glancing about the street as if it would give her the answer.  
  
“Where must you go?” The Sten asked without judgement, an almost caring lilt to his voice.  
  
“The Hanged Man.” She said without thinking much more on it and Sten nodded, striding off in the direction of Lowtown and leaving Hawke to trot after him.

 

The front door of the tavern was locked and so Hawke skirted around to the alleyway of the building and climbed the stairs that led to the second floor for guests to enter. She opened the door quietly and walked into the familiar hallway, noticing that it hadn’t changed one bit since she left for the Deep Roads. Her Sten followed her inside while the others remained outside, not deeming it necessary to follow them. She paused by Varric’s door a moment, hand raised to knock she faltered in her determination. Why was she so nervous? It was _Varric_ for Maker’s sake.

Sten decided he wasn’t going to wait and pounded on the door startling Hawke. She glared at him and he gave her a raised eyebrow in response as if she was being an idiot, which she probably was. A few moments later Varric answered with a dagger hidden behind the line of his body, his sleep dazed eyes widened when he saw Hawke and the giant Sten on his doorstep.  
  
“Hawke?” he greeted and questioned as the Sten put his large hand on her shoulder, giving her a nod before turning and walking away to leave the tavern. Hawke and Varric watched him go, closing the door heavily as he left.  
  
“You know,” Hawke said quietly as she watched the empty hallway, “He really _is_ quite chatty.” She turned to see Varric looking at her as if she had just birthed a demon in front of him.  
  
“What the _fuck,_ Hawke?” he said before pulling her inside by the arm.

She stumbled inside somewhat painfully and Varric grabbed her by the arms, looking her over for injury, booby-traps, clues or whatever he could find.  
  
“I’m alright, Varric.” She chuckled and he gave her an incredulous look.  
  
“Well _I’m_ not.” He scolded her. “Do you have any idea what you’ve been putting me through?” He sighed and stepped in to hug her tightly, his arms wrapping around her waist with a force that pushed the air from her lungs. His head just happened to be at the height of her breasts but it didn’t worry him as he held her as tightly as he could. Her arms automatically went to encircle his shoulders and she carded her fingers through his hair.  
  
“Sorry, Varric.” She mumbled and he sighed.  
  
“Don’t you _ever_ do that to me again.” He scolded and she nodded her head, letting him hold onto her for as long as he needed.

 

Hawke took a gulp from the mug of ale that Varric had liberated from the taproom of the tavern and set it back down with a satisfying sigh, she decided that the best breakfast would be a liquid one for the conversation she was having with the Dwarf.  
  
“So they basically blackmailed you.” Varric stated flatly and she nodded. “What I don’t get is why they wanted you to ‘ _recover_ ’ there. Surely you could have done that here.”  
  
“You know how it is.” She replied with a stretch. “If it is not done by the Qun it’s not done right.” He gave her a worried look as she balanced precariously on the dwarf-sized chair.  
  
“And he didn’t tell you what this task was?” he asked and Hawke shook her head.  
  
“I’m surprised he told me to leave, really. He outright said I wasn’t ready for it but said I had to go face my issues anyway.”  
  
“He’ll be waiting a while then.” Varric muttered into his mug and Hawke gave him a playful slap on his shoulder. He grinned at her and settled back onto his chair. “So when are you going to go see Leandra?” he asked quietly, watching his thumb trace over the rim of his tankard. She sighed and leaned forward to settle onto the table, chin propped up by her bent elbow.  
  
“I don’t know.” She said. “I’m not sure if I can. She made it pretty clear that I wasn’t welcome.” She cringed at the memory of being cast out of her home.  
  
“Cupcake, she was upset.” Varric reached across to pat at her shoulder. “I’m not saying it was right, but she regrets it now.” Hawke sulked into her mug and sighed which was followed by a yawn and Varric chuckled before sanding and pulling her mug away. “Don’t think about it now in any case.” He said despite it being a topic that he brought up. “You look like you haven’t gotten a good night’s sleep in months.” Hawke hummed in agreement as Varric walked over and ushered her to stand and walk over to the alcove of the room where his bed was.  
  
“Only one bed, sorry.” He said as he took the daggers off on her back, making a pleased sound as they came away easily.  
  
“I don’t want to take up your only bed.” She said as her fatigue began to fall, it was the curse of only having one beer – she always got tired if she didn’t continue. It may have also been only having two hours sleep.  
  
“I won’t be going back to sleep.” Varric said as he ushered her towards the bed. “I’m an early riser – don’t give me that look you know what I mean.” Hawke giggled as she began to kick off her boots. “I’ve got work to do anyway.” He walked out and she could hear his desk chair scrape along the stone floor and she stripped down to her tunic before crawling under the blanket into the most amazingly comfortable bed she had ever slept in.  
  
“Varric?” she called to him and he hummed in response. “Thanks.” She said somewhat quietly.  
  
“Go to sleep, Cupcake.” He called back, and a moment later added; “I’m glad you’re back.” She smiled to herself and fell asleep.

 

A hushed argument woke her up and it took a moment for her to remember where she was, breaking out of a nightmare about the Deep Roads she calmed her breathing to figure out if she needed to arm herself or not.  
  
“I understand you want to see her but its going to have to wait.” Varric hissed from near the doorway to his room.  
  
“I’m not waiting dammit, I need to see that she’s okay.” Anders’ voice hissed in return.  
  
“No way. She’s sleeping, probably for the first time since we hit the Deep Roads and I’m not letting you wake her up just because you’ve got a crush on her.” Varric scolded and she could hear Anders sigh. “Go back to the clinic,” Varric urged, “and for Andraste’s sake take a bath and eat something. She’s not going to want to see you covered in whatever _that_ is. Come back tonight when everyone else will be here and have a few drinks.” There was a pause before Anders spoke again in a calmer voice.  
  
“She’s really unharmed?” Anders asked.  
  
“She hasn’t told me otherwise and I’m not about to check her out while she’s sleeping. Now go home, I have far too much work to do before you lot get here and trash my quarters again.” Varric said and soon she heard the door click closed.  
  
“Sorry Hawke.” Varric said quietly, somehow knowing that she was awake. He rounded the corner to see her sitting up, hair mussed up and all over the place and a leg poking out from under the blanket. “I sent messengers to let them know to come tonight, but you know how Anders is.” His eyes glanced to her exposed leg and he masked a look of concern which Hawke noticed regardless. She looked down and remembered there were bruises mottling the pale skin along with tell-tale claw like scratches, all quite fresh. She scooped her leg back under the blanket and cleared her throat, smiling to dismiss the tension.  
  
“Thanks.” She said. “I’m not sure I would have been able to handle his good-intentions right now.” Varric nodded quietly.  
  
“Want me to get a bath ready for you?” he asked and she shook her head.  
  
“You don’t have to dote on me.” She smiled and he chuckled a bit. “Besides you’re busy enough. I’ll manage on my own.” He nodded again and awkwardly left to continue working at his desk.

 

It was dusk and Hawke was sitting at Varric’s table reading one of the amazingly awful romances he wrote when the door burst open revealing an imposing and determined Aveline. Varric jumped up from his desk and relaxed when he saw who it was, Hawke however had to prepare for the roughest hug she had ever been a part of. Air squeezed out of her she was being bruised by Aveline’s armour as the guardswoman near crushed her.  
  
“ _You fucking idiot._ ” Aveline scolded her and Hawke breathlessly laughed, hugging her back.  
  
“Missed you too Aveline.” She said before Aveline stepped back, embarrassed by her outburst. The guard’s face was flushed pink as she nodded a hello to Varric and he waved to her in return.  
  
“Are you-” Aveline began before clearing her throat. Varric stepped forward with a smile.  
  
“I told them not to ask you if you were hurt or any other health related issues.” He said to Hawke who smiled at him. “Figured you’d get shitty with the constant questions.” Hawke nodded and looked at Aveline who was still itching to ask anyway.  
  
“I’m not hurt.” Hawke said and saw the relief in her eyes. “They treated me well and I was not under duress.” She left out the part of being manipulated into staying but Hawke decided not to inform Aveline about that, she trusted Aveline but knew that any threats on the city would send her into a spin. “So let’s stop worrying and have a drink.”  
  


Diamondback was the game of choice for the night and it was a game that Hawke had lost easily. Taking another mug from the barmaid who was doing a great job of keeping them liquored up Hawke settled back and watched as Fenris, Isabela and Varric battled it out in the last round. The barmaid stepped out of the room momentarily before rushing back in and whispering in Varric’s ear who nodded quickly, eyes widening.  
  
“Templars are on their way up.” He said quietly. “Anders, take Daisy into the back room, there’s a small closet you can lock from the inside, if you need to there is a window you can climb through.” Anders nodded and quickly grabbed his staff and Merrill and rushed to the back room, the others all sitting casually as a knock was heard at the open doorway. Varric casually called for them to enter while placing a bet onto the table and dealing the cards.  
  
“Knight-Captain! Come for a game?” Varric welcomed with a disarming smile and Hawke lanced to see Knight-Captain Cullen walk in flanked by two Templars. Cullen smiled and bowed to the group which was echoed by the other Templars. Hawke, Aveline, Isabela and Fenris nodded their heads in return politely.  
  
“I would but I’d much prefer to keep my money, I’ve heard stories of you cleaning out the pockets of my recruits.” Cullen said with a smile and Varric laughed in return.  
  
“Well, a man has to make a living somehow.” Varric smirked as he lifted his cards to examine them.  
  
“Yes, what is it you do exactly?” Cullen casually asked as he approached the table.  
  
“I clean out the pockets of your recruits.” Varric said with a smile and Hawke couldn’t hold back her chuckle.

Cullen stood by a chair that was opposite Hawke and gestured to it, asking her for permission to sit. She nodded and he sat down, his plate armour making metallic sounds as he found a way to sit on the smaller chair.  
  
“It is good to see you back Hawke.” Cullen said and Hawke nodded to him in thanks, offering him a drink which he refused. “I am sorry to hear about your sister. Blight-sickness was it?”  
  
“Yes.” Hawke said quietly, aware of being watched by her companions and the Templars. “We came across isolated pockets of darkspawn in the Roads, she must have contracted it from one of them.”  
  
“That is unfortunate, she was a nice girl, very polite.” He said while looking about the room.  
  
“Knight-Captain, while I appreciate your condolences, you didn’t come to ask me about her.” Hawke surmised and Cullen smiled at her, he seemed glad to be able to cut to the chase.  
  
“No, I did not.” His smile was disarming and put everyone on edge although no-one in the room would let it show. “I heard a rumour that you were staying in the Qunari compound, and with your permission I would like to ask a few questions.” Hawke shrugged, she knew even if she didn’t give him permission to he was going to ask anyway.  
  
“Ask away.” She said as she took another gulp of ale.  
  
“Why did you go to the Qunari compound?” he began, studying her features as he asked.  
  
“I returned home only to be cast out by my family.” Hawke knew to speak as close to the truth as possible. “I was bereft and not in my right mind so I began walking around the streets. The Sten that guards the gate offered me shelter.”  
  
“And you accepted.” He said a little incredulously.  
  
“I was exhausted, injured and freezing in the rain. The Qunari had made no threats to me before, there was no reason for me to refuse.”  
  
“Did you speak to the Qunari much?”  
  
“Some.”  
  
“Anything we should know that is pertinent to the security of Kirkwall?”

 _There is an army already in the walls, they’re growing bigger and are an insult away from burning the city down.  
_  
“No.” Hawke replied.  
  
“Did the Arishok ask anything of you?”   
  
_To take on an unknown mission that he could not do himself and other things that would make a Blooming Rose worker blush.  
_  
“Only if there was something to assist me in healing.” She answered.  
  
“Why would the Arishok care if you were healed?” Cullen asked somewhat suspiciously.  
  
“I got the feeling that my presence was disrupting the peacefulness of his compound.” Hawke replied and her friends laughed, Cullen smirked and nodded.  
  
“Alright, just one more.” Cullen said and Hawke nodded. “What is their purpose here?” Hawke raised her eyebrow at him incredulously and was met with a serious stare.  
  
“Knight-Captain, I genuinely believe they want to go home.” She said truthfully and Cullen thanked her before standing up. Aveline cleared her throat to gain the Templar’s attention.  
  
“Why are the Templars taking an interest in the security of Kirkwall?” Aveline asked. “It is an issue for the City Guard surely.” Cullen smirked at her.  
  
“If your Commanding Officer took any interest in the safety of the citizens in this city I would agree, but it would seem that it falls to the Chantry and Templars to keep this city in check.” Cullen looked to Hawke again as Aveline bristled, Fenris placed a hand of warning on her arm. “Again, I am sorry to hear about Bethany, should she have survived the Harrowing I would have enjoyed her company in the Gallows.” With that he spun on his heels and left the room.

 

Aveline paced the room angrily while Hawke sat on the ground staring blankly at the floor, having barely avoided a panic attack. Anders and Merrill had been retrieved from the closet by Isabela and they all sat about warily as the two women made the atmosphere tense. Anders approached Hawke carefully, sitting down beside her on the floor before gently placing his hand over hers.  
  
“Grae?” he said her name and she didn’t respond. “What happened love?” Aveline paced angrily and answered for her.  
  
“That fucking shit Rutherford is what happened.” Aveline spat. “How dare he, how _fucking_ dare he.”  
  
“Calm down.” Isabela scolded Aveline. “You know your superior is a jackass, you’ve been watching him since before you left on the expedition.”  
  
“That doesn’t give him the right to waltz in here and interrogate Hawke.” Aveline arced up, ready for a fight.  
  
“No, it doesn’t.” Anders agreed. “He is a Templar, even the good ones are corrupt. But is that what upset you?” he asked Hawke who had managed to find a mug of ale and was gulping it down. She sat the mug back down on the floor and ran trembling hands through her hair.

Rutherford had known about Bethany the whole time. He had _known_. Was he just waiting for Hawke to leave so he could come in and take her away easily? Hawke had been so confident that she had covered every trace, destroyed every piece of evidence that Bethany was a mage. She had been tearing herself up over allowing Bethany to go on the expedition, unaware that she had failed from the very beginning. No matter what her choice could have been, Bethany would have suffered the consequences.

Anders’ hands reached up to brush her cheek and she slapped it away.  
  
“Enough.” She growled as she stood up quickly, stumbling slightly and gripping onto the back of a chair as some ache made itself known. With as steadying breath she picked up another mug and downed it just as quickly, even Aveline stopped pacing to watch her warily.  
  
“Take it easy Hawke.” Varric gently urged and she shook off his hand as he placed it on her arm, she wandered quietly to Varric’s chair, it was larger and easier to sit on and she often claimed it when she was spiralling down into drunkenness. Tucking her foot up she leaned her head on her knee with a _thunk_ , silence filling the room with tension as a couple of them moved about. Cool fingers slid to her cheek, directing her head to turn to face the form kneeling by her side. Anders smiled up at her, his eyes squinting as he did, earring dangling from his ear and stubble gracing his jaw. He didn’t say anything, just gently traced his thumb over her cheekbone. Fenris’ voice rumbled from near the balcony.  
  
“There are Qunari outside.” He stepped towards the group. “Looks like they are coming in. Is there something you’re not telling us Hawke?” her gaze didn’t leave Anders’ eyes, which didn’t falter at hearing Fenris’ announcement. Gently he leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on her lips, her eyes tearing up at the gesture.  
  
“You don’t want me.” She whispered to Anders. “I’m a piece of shit.” He smiled at her as if she was an idiot.  
  
“Yeah? Good thing I am too.” He replied.  
  
“I can’t protect you.” She insisted, her hand pulling at his ineffectively and he chuckled.  
  
“I don’t need you to.” He reaffirmed before looking over to the doorway in concern. She followed his gaze over to see Sten taking in the scene before him, before his eyes landed on Hawke who let out a heavy sigh.

Sten cautiously walked over to her before kneeling on her other side, Anders stood warily as the giant approached, letting Hawke roll her head along the high back of her chair to look at Sten’s blank expression.    
  
“Busted huh?” she said and the Sten didn’t reply, only his nostrils flared from the smell of the ale that permeated the room. Large clawed fingers gripped her chin and turned it so Sten could get a better look at her eyes. He blinked once and stood, turning to leave as Hawke’s hand shot out and grabbed his wrist. Fenris stepped forward along with Aveline and Varric but Sten only looked down at the hand on his wrist, silently he kneeled and looked at Hawke again, her eyes meeting his with a determination.   
  
“I’m not going back to listen to a lecture about that damned soldier again.” She said and he frowned at her, she sighed and let go of his wrist, moving her gaze away to stare at the far end of the room. “Give me time, Sten.” She spoke quietly. “Don’t report this to him.” A large grey hand gently cupped the back of her head, turning it so Sten could bump his forehead against hers. Standing he walked calmly out of the room, leaving her companions in a stunned silence.

 

“Everyone out.” Varric said and everyone turned to look at him. He looked up, staring at Hawke who remained staring at the wall.  
  
“Varric-” Isabela began but was cut off by a swift wave of his hand.  
  
“It’s past midnight and there has been far too much excitement. Go home, Hawke and I are going to have a chat.” Varric ordered and they left quietly, glancing at their leader as she acknowledged nothing around her. Varric locked the door behind them and turned to face Hawke with a sigh and a hand scrubbing in his hair, grabbing a couple of bottles of ale he strode over and sat in the seat beside Hawke, cracking open the lids he poured the ale into the mugs in front of them.  
  
“I noticed that you didn’t tell anyone tonight about the Arishok threatening the city.” He said as he drank a gulp.  
  
“They didn’t need to know.” She said flatly before she reached for the handle of the tankard, taking a long sip.  
  
“You sure about that? Isn’t it better for them to know about the threat rather than thinking that their leader has been converted to the Qun?” He asked her and Hawke realised that that is what it must have looked like to them.  
  
“Perhaps it is better that I’m not their leader anymore.” She said quietly and Varric glared at her suspiciously.  
  
“You don’t mean that.” He said flatly and she rolled her head to look at him, his stubble had set in and his hair was still tied back perfectly and she was tempted to poke the broken ridge of his nose. Drunk. She was drunk.  
  
“You’d make a much better leader Varric.” She said and he shook his head.  
  
“Nope. I don’t want the responsibility of keeping us all together, you’re the only one who can do it.” Hawke scoffed and Varric scolded her for being petulant. “I’m serious, look at Fenris and Anders. They hate each other, by all rights they should be trying to kill each other whenever their together but they don’t. Why? Because they have a mutual respect for _you._ They want to ensure this pathetic excuse for a mercenary band succeeds for _you._ Not for some stylish Dwarf who lives in a tavern.” Hawke was silent as he regarded her, leaning on the table he sighed and watched her tiredly.   
  
“What is this really about?” he softly asked her, reaching across to take her hand in his.  
  
“I can’t keep doing this.” She said. “I have no idea _what_ I am doing. Taking money to hunt people down, being dragged into politics. My stupid decisions are going to get us all killed.”  
  
“Well,” Varric chuckled, “we have to die from something. Besides, I can’t see you doing anything else, shit, you ran with Athenril for a year and became her best smuggler. Even I had trouble keeping track of you.” Hawke snorted indelicately at the mention of Athenril, the woman she had to work for in order to get into Kirkwall after coming here as a refugee.  
  
“Why _are_ you still working with me Varric?” Hawke asked. “Not that I don’t want you around but I thought that after the expedition you’d be too busy to waste your time on me.”  
  
“Honestly; I’ve got a weakness for redheads.” He teased with a glint of amusement in his eyes and Hawke smiled despite herself.

 

An hour later Varric had managed to cheer Hawke up a bit and they were recalling all the times that they had done some work for the Templars or reported to them with Anders, Bethany or Merrill in tow. Hawke was laughing hysterically as Varric was trying to make a point.  
  
“I mean, honestly!” Varric half shouted as Hawke’s eyes were beginning to water. “You can’t look at _any_ of them and think ‘ _not a mage’_. They carry staves with them for Andraste’s sake!”  
  
“The _robes._ ” Hawke managed to say as she laughed and gestured at her clothes.  
  
“Not to mention that everything got set on fire or frozen when Bethany was around. You could see the smoke for miles!” Varric added as he poured more ale into their tankards. “I don’t know if they’re blind or stupid but _something_ isn’t working for them.” Hawke slowed her giggling to take a gulp from the tankard, her chuckles echoing in the mug back at her. “It’s official.” Varric said with a tired smile. “The city is getting worse, maybe you should have called the Arishok’s bluff.”  
  
“Hey, I worked my ass off for a year to get into this slice of paradise and I’ll be damned if I’ll let anyone but me damage it.” Hawke said patriotically and was saluted by Varric.  
  
“So that Sten is going to report good things about you then?” he said nonchalantly and Hawke gave him a level ‘ _I know you’re trying to get information out of me’_ glare.  
  
“Perhaps.” She said flatly and Varric sighed in exasperation.  
  
“C’mon Hawke you’ve told me everything else. Why would the Arishok be keeping tabs on you now? For a mission you know nothing about? Seems like a stretch.” Hawke gave him her best Wicked Grace face which was awful at best. “Has it got something to do with why your legs are fucked up?” Hawke sighed at him and he leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest, determined for an answer.  
  
“I think he just doesn’t want me to drink.” Hawke shrugged and her voice lowered to mimic the Arishok’s voice. “ _Alcohol confuses one’s purpose.”  
_  
“We’re doomed.” Varric drawled and Hawke couldn’t keep a straight face anymore, she broke down into giggles and Varric just shook his head at the sight.  
  
“I think it’s time for bed.” Varric sighed, unhappy with what little information he got from her. He stood and ignored the suggestive remarks Hawke was making, picking her arm up and draping it over his shoulder before helping her stand and taking her lanky bulk towards the bedroom.

“I foresee this happening often in our future.” Varric drawled as he pulled Hawke’s boots off of her feet. She wiggled her toes at him and giggled as she sat on the bed and watched him fuss.  
  
“You gonna keep taking me to bed huh?” Hawke hiccupped while smiling lazily at him, Varric snorted incredulously at her.  
  
“Not if you’re this much hassle all the time.” He teased her before reaching to slide her holster off her shoulders. “This holster is bad-ass Hawke, where did you get it?”  
  
“Arishok.” Hawke yawned.  
  
“Wait, he gave it to you?” Varric asked surprised and Hawke nodded drunkenly, Varric shook his head and slipped the first strap off of her shoulder. “Now, why would the Arishok be giving you- what the fuck?” Hawke looked to Varric who was staring at her shoulder with a concerned frown. She blinked at him wondering what was happening, she didn’t like the look on his face and vaguely knew if he was concerned she should probably be too. He pushed the collar of her tunic back to expose the line of her shoulder and swallowed hard.   
  
“Is that a bite?” he asked quietly and Hawke looked out of the corner of her eye to see the near-perfect indentation of sharp Qunari teeth. She hitched the collar of her tunic back up quickly, fighting back the blush she knew was pinking her cheeks. Varric breathed heavily trying to control his temper, pinching the bridge of his nose as he paced by the bed.   
  
“I knew we should have gotten you out sooner.” He growled to himself. “How dare they, _how dare they fucking touch you._ ”  
  
“Varric, calm down.” Hawke said quietly. “It’s not like that.”  
  
“ _Not like that?_ ” Varric shouted. “They bit you enough to _bleed,_ Hawke. What the fuck _is_ it like?” He paused for a moment, a thought occurring to him as he stared at her. Hawke stood with her hands up, ready to calm him down. “You were sitting on a giant cushion when we came for you, you weren’t the time before.” He was shaking his finger at Hawke as his brain muddled through the thought. “You were limping a lot when you walked down the stairs.”  
  
“Varric-” Hawke began and Varric shook his head at her.  
  
“Hawke, did you- _Andraste’s fucking tits_ \- did you _sleep_ with a Qunari?” He asked quietly, his hand rubbing his eyes in disbelief.  
  
“It’s not an issue, Varric.” Hawke admonished and Varric sighed loudly.  
  
“Please tell me it was that Sten that came to check up on you.” He said a bit quickly, his angry eyes pinning Hawke to the spot. Her silence gave him the answer and her growled unhappily. “ _Please say it wasn’t the Arishok._ ” He growled and Hawke scrunched her nose, looking away from him. “ _Are you out of your mind?”_ he yelled and Hawke felt the first wave of anger grow in her.  
  
“ _Don’t you scold me like a child._ ” Hawke growled in return. “Whom I sleep with is absolutely _no_ concern of yours.”  
  
“Hawke you could run off and become queen of an Avaar tribe for all that I care, but did you _seriously_ think fucking the Arishok was a good idea?” Varric ran his hands through his hair angrily. “Let’s put aside the fact that this entire city is a political powder-keg, that the Qunari are one good reason away from launching an invasion from inside the city walls- a fact you pointed out to me I might add.” He lectured as Hawke glowered at the ground, arms crossed over her chest. “Let’s forget that the fucking Templars have been ordered to investigate them, that if the Knight-Captain finds out that you have taken on the General of the Qunari army as a lover, a lover that apparently sends you gifts- or as they will see them- bribes, you will be thrown into the dungeons to be tortured until you tell them everything they want to hear.”  
  
“It’s not-” Hawke tried to interrupt but Varric was far from finished.  
  
“Besides all of that, he kidnaps and blackmails you and you _still_ think it’s a good idea. Fucking hell Hawke.” He stopped to rub his head as if he was hounded by a headache, sighing he works to calm down, his voice trembling from the effort. “I know losing Beth was hard-”  
  
“ _Don’t you dare._ ” Hawke growled at him, sufficiently angry now. “Don’t you bring her into this.”  
  
“No?” Varric countered. “You don’t take on a lover for years and as soon as you have to stop and face what happened to her you walk straight into the compound to fuck the one person that could see you killed.” Hawke began to pace in the small area. “For Maker’s sake just look at what he did to you, you’re bruised and bloody.”  
  
“You don’t understand what you are talking about.” She hissed at him and Varric stilled, his demeanour dangerously calm.  
  
“Then let me tell you what I _do_ understand.” His voice was so empty of emotion that it sent a chill down her spine. “If the Viscount finds out what you did he’s not going to stop with you. He’ll take all of us. Merrill and Anders will be sent to the gallows, Fenris will likely be killed, and the rest of us thrown in jail. All because you couldn’t keep your fucking legs shut.”

 

Hawke’s stomach felt like it was plummeting as Varric sighed behind her as if he regretted his last words. Without looking at him Hawke pushed past, striding out the door and into the hallway. Without stopping she burst through the door that took her to the outside stairs and into the cold winter air. Barefoot she walked aimlessly, she didn’t have a destination, just wanted to be as far away from the tavern as she could be, because he was right.

She needed out, out of Kirkwall, out of the Free Marches. Somewhere she could start again as someone else and not be Grae Hawke, colossal fuck up and mistress of the Arishok. Someone who’s superbly refined leadership and decision making skills risked the lives of the people she cared about. As she stumbled down the road flashes of her friends scored through her mind, Aveline in chains, Anders tranquil, Fenris dead. Bethany dead.

It was her decision to let Bethany come to the Deep Roads, and it was her who had covered their tracks so poorly that the Templars knew what Bethany was. She had let Carver charge forwards to face the ogre and be crushed as they fled Lothering, she had indebted them to the Witch of the Wilds to come to possibly the most corrupted city in Thedas.

Hawke stepped into a puddle and stopped at the sudden wetness of her foot, looking around she was in some alleyway. The docks? She heard the low rumble of a man laughing and footsteps approaching, facing the sound she watched five men stepped out of the shadows and into the moonlight. They were well armed and poorly armoured, their chest pieces scratched up and dirty, the swords they casually carried were notched and ill-cared for, when the leader grinned at her she could only see a handful of teeth but it didn’t hinder his speech at all.  
  
“I was just thinking to myself,” the leader purred, his eyes glinting coldly as he looked Hawke over, “that tonight was going to be a bust, no-one is daft enough to come down this way at night anymore, but here we are with some lowtown scrub wandering into my alley, Maker, what a night this has turned out to be.” He paused before her as his cohorts circled around to flank her, Hawke stayed put, with no weapons she wasn’t going to fight and she could barely walk from all the ale she had consumed.  
  
“Hey Coops,” a dusty blonde flunkie spoke as he circled around her. “I think this is Hawke.” The Leader raised his eyebrows and laughed.  
  
“Andrate’s cunt, I think you’re right.” Coops grinned at her. “My lucky night huh? You finally break free of the Qunari then, what a pity you survived the oxmen only to be cut down on the street.” Hawke blinked, trying to focus on the man in front of her. “You see, while you were away the Coterie put a price on your head, running for Athenril put you on their radar and all the shit you pulled after landed you on their shit list.”  
  
“Where are the others?” One of the bandits called out. “She usually runs with at least three.”  
  
“Not here.” Coops said. “Good thing too, they don’t have a price on ‘em. Less work for us.” Hawke sighed and tilted her head as if she were waiting patiently for them to finish, she couldn’t be bothered worrying about herself anymore, at least if she died on the streets no-one would be coming after her friends. “No begging Hawke? I’m almost disappointed.” Coops crooned as he raised his sword to her, Hawke snorted incredulously.  
  
“If you’re going to kill me,” Hawke said flatly, “do it. I’d rather be dead than around your filth any longer.”

The bandit took a moment to regard her before grabbing her shoulder and thrusting the sword through her abdomen. Blood spurted out of her mouth, the white heat of pain screaming through her core before he yanked the metal out of her, thick blood dripping wetly onto the cobblestone ground. Hawke kept her killer’s gaze and smiled. Only when he was suddenly higher than her did she realise she had sunk to her knees, the tang of copper overwhelming in her mouth. She felt the pang of guilt for a moment before pushing it aside, it was better this way. She couldn’t hurt anyone.

A sudden flash of light cracked around her and she could smell the ozone of magic as the man in front of her was struck by lightning, with a horrified scream he was flung backwards, his flesh burning as the hit the ground hard. Shouts and more lightning followed as the bandits retreated into the alleyway at a sprint, leaving Hawke slumped on the ground.

She was being pulled backwards, hand gathering her up to lean against a chest covered in feathers, dimly she recognised Anders, his eyes wide and mouth moving frantically as he tried to get her to respond to him. He pulled the cork of a vial out with his mouth and held the potion to hers, trying to support her head enough to drink the bitter liquid, Hawke limply turned her head away, refusing to drink and letting it spill onto her jaw. She could vaguely understand Anders shouting at her, telling her that he wasn’t going to let her do something, his eyes brimming with tears as he brought his hand to the jagged wound and cast a healing spell, the tingling cool sensation barely noticed by her.

She dragged her hand up to brush at his jaw, it felt heavy, as if the air were made of honey and it took more effort that she thought she had to reach up and touch him, she gave him a half-smile, the edges of her vision blurring before she urged him down, bringing his lips to meet hers in a chaste kiss, her hand fell down and hit the stone but she didn’t feel it and she realised she couldn’t keep her focus in him, vision drifting from his face and whiting out.


	15. Chapter 15

It wasn’t the constant pain in her stomach that woke her up, even though each breath tugged and pinched in a sharp throb. It wasn’t the sound of ceramic and glass clinking together in what sounded like a tub of water, the high pitched tinkling accompanied by a low and soft thudding sound as water was dripped and stirred around them.

It was the sense of people around her, the nagging feeling of vulnerability in the back of her head that she hadn’t been able to shake since the beginning of the Deep Roads. Hawke kept her eyes closed, laying still as she tested the movement of her toes and fingers, if they worked then the rest of her would be fine but the knowledge that she could work them easily didn’t make her feel any better.

The blanket on her itched her legs, the sticky bandage around her stomach itched her skin. Her hair was down and around her shoulders, her neck, everything was irritating. The tight pinching of her stomach was driving her mad and she wanted nothing more than to loosen it, stretch.

Cracking her eyes open the room was flooded with candlelight, too bright as it seared into her mind and threatened to trigger a headache. Cautiously she lifted her hand and felt at her stomach, the linen of a bandage was wound around her waist and rough against her fingertips and she had a sudden need to have it off, to let her skin breathe and feel the cool air.

But the air was stuffy wherever she was, too bright and too hot. Hawke let out a frustrated huff and gripped at the bandage, ripping at the fabric with her hands as she twisted to get out of it. Pain flared across her stomach but that was good, it was progress to stretching and moving.

Hands gripped at hers and pulled them back, stopping her from pulling the bandages apart, stopping her from finding some sense of relief and she tried to jerk out of their hold, a guttural growl escaping her throat as they held fast, talking nonsensically as she pushed at them.

Fingers pushed onto her forehead and were cold, damp, before she calmed down and let out a long sigh. The magic that pushed into her mind rolled around her like a cooling wave, tingling as it crept through her arms, chest, stomach and legs, finishing on the tips of her toes like someone had brushed a feather along them.

Blinking lazily against the feeling her head lolled to the side meeting wide brown eyes rife with concern, he shifted forward, fingers on the edge of the cot she was lying on as the candlelight bounced off the golden rings in his ears.  
“Hang in there Hawke.” Varric said to her, conveying calm but still worried, glancing between her unfocussed gaze and whatever was happening over her stomach. Hawke frowned, shaking her head as something pinched in her stomach painfully and she wrenched her arm free to yank at the bandages again.

Enough was enough, enough fussing, enough pain, enough uncertainty and disaster after disaster. Just _enough_. Hands grabbed at her again and this time she _fought_ , legs kicking and fists swinging as she screamed and growled at the people trying to keep her alive, a blur of faces and bodies until all she saw was a hand and a wash of blue light before slinking back into unconsciousness. 

 

She heard a long, pained exhale and realised it was from herself. The next breath was just as pained and a few breaths later she knew why as her stomach stung with each movement. She opened her eyes and blinked slowly, her body feeling heavy from sedation as she struggled to roll her head to the side.

There was a pillow under her head that was making it hard to roll and it took more effort than normal to overcome the lump of pillow and look around the room. She was in Anders’ clinic in Darktown, the usually full cots empty except for one being occupied by an elvhen woman who was curled up and sleeping soundly, _Merrill_ , her mind supplied a few seconds later.

Aveline and Fenris were by a wall sitting and playing cards quietly, Isabela was running a coin along her fingers as she practiced her dexterity, her feet up on a chair as she slumped in another.

Looking to the other side Anders was busy at his workbench, mixing potions as Sebastian shucked and stored herbs diligently. Beside them Varric was stretched out in a chair, arms folded and head down as he snored quietly.

Hawke felt stiff all over, she needed to move. Carefully she worked her elbow underneath her and rolled up, keeping her stomach as still as possible as her legs slid off the cot and onto the stone slab floor. The stone was cold on her feet as she edged towards a sitting position, she was quiet enough that no one had noticed her movement yet and still didn’t when she eventually got to her feet and took one shuffling, painfully exhausting step.

It was either the movement or her grunting whimper of pain and frustration that got their attention, starting with Anders who dropped the potion he was working on suddenly, the vial smashing against the ground as he rushed around the cot to her.  
  
“Hey, _hey.”_ Anders exclaimed as he skirted through the cots and pulled up short in front of her, arms out to steady and catch her if she fell. “What the hell are you doing Hawke?”

Hawke gritted her teeth and took another step, pushing against Anders’ chest with her forearm to move him out of her way. By this time the others had taken notice, standing and watching from their places curiously as Hawke tried to move the feather-clad mage from her path.  
  
“I don’t know where you’re going but you can’t get there naked _or_ with a wound like that.” Anders said firmly and held onto her shoulders, holding Hawke up as she swayed on the spot. Hawke opened her mouth to say something but didn’t, just looked down at herself covered in bandages and in only her undergarments before letting out a shuddering sigh.

Her hand reached up and fingers wove into the feathers of his coat, barely half a step forward and her cheek was resting on them, her arm over his shoulder loosely. Anders’ arms wrapped around her gently, his hand brushing her tangled hair away from her forehead as much as he could before fingers gently skirted under her hair, making comforting circles.

“Let’s get you back into bed.” He crooned and scooped her up easily, mindful of her wound as she was carried the few paces back to the cot. Hawke kept her face buried in his shoulder, the softness of the feathers and the earthy smell of his skin comforting as she clung to him.

Anders lowered her into the cot and fussed with the blanket, draping it over her again as the scratchy fabric irritated her skin. He sat beside her and smiled, watching her carefully as she shifted uncomfortably. He pressed the back of his hand against her forehead, her neck and cheek before frowning.

“You have a fever.” He said with that ever present cheerful tone. “But I guess that can’t be helped when you get skewered with a filthy sword. Sebastian – pass me that vial.” Anders looked up and pointed as Hawke sighed and closed her eyes. “No the blue one – that’s green. You colour blind?”

Hawke heard Sebastian complain quietly and walk over to hand the vial to Anders who opened it with a popping of a cork. His hand worked gently underneath her head to support it and Hawke huffed in annoyance.  
  
“Come on, this will fix that fever.” Anders cajoled and held the vial to her lips. Hawke frowned and turned her head away, she didn’t want it, didn’t want anything. Anders sighed and tried again, a drop spilling onto her lips but pulled away as her hand came up to listlessly swat at the vial.

“What is wrong?” Fenris asked from where he stood near Aveline. Anders pulled the blanket up higher to cover her chest before sitting back and scratching at his stubble.

“She’s refusing the potion.” Anders said flatly before muttering to himself. “Thought it might be the case.”

“Does it smell bad?” Merrill piped up and Hawke pulled the blanket over her head, she didn’t want to see them anymore, or see them watch her the way they were. “Everything smells awful when I’m sick, even flowers.” Merrill continued.

“Is there anything else that will bring her fever down?” Aveline cut off Merrill’s ramblings.

“I can use magic to keep it in control.” Anders said with resignation.  
  
“You’re exhausted.” Isabela pointed out. “You haven’t slept since you dragged her here, haven’t eaten or stopped at all.”

“Perhaps it is best that we leave.” Sebastian said and there was a pause. “This is not normal for Hawke and I’m sure that she is feeling crowded. I will watch over her for a while and let Anders get some rest.”

“We can come back in the morning.” Fenris agreed and Hawke could hear them stand and shuffle around the room.

“Let’s not overwhelm her.” Sebastian cautioned and received reluctant agreements. Eventually the sounds of movement made its way over to the door which was shut quietly. Hawke barely noticed when Sebastian eased the blanket from her face and rested it just under her chin, didn’t notice when he clapped Anders on the shoulder and reassured him that he would watch over her. Exhaustion rolled over her again, she closed her eyes and let it take her.

 

The harsh whispers of an argument awoke her and she instantly knew that Sebastian had left, the archer was a firm believer in resolving any conflict between the group even though he hadn’t been with them long, and the fact that she could hear a steadily growing argument meant that the one calming influence of her companions was absent.

“What aren’t you telling me?” Varric’s harsh whisper still carried well in the room, Hawke opened her eyes a crack to see him by the workbench glaring at Anders who was pointedly ignoring him. “You’re hiding something, have been since we got here.”

“I could ask you the same.” Anders coolly replied, shooting a glare at the dwarf. “What exactly happened when Hawke left your rooms?” Varric stilled and shook his head.

“No, nothing that concerns you.” Varric said firmly and Anders dropped whatever he was working on in frustration, turning on the dwarf with a flash of blue in his eyes – showing his anger as the Spirit of Justice within him let itself be known.

“You think I can’t see it when you stop others from being privy to information?” Anders hissed at him and Varric straightened his back proudly. “I am trying to _save her life_ and you are more concerned about your secrets.”

“What secrets?” Varric said in exasperation. “If I knew anything that could help her I would have told you already.”

“But you won’t tell me why she had left your apartment unarmed, she didn’t even have shoes on for Maker’s sake.”

“It’s a compl-” Varric began and as interrupted by Anders.

“I swear, dwarf, if you tell me it’s complicated I’m going to throw you out of my clinic.” Anders huffed in frustration and pinched at the bridge of his nose as if he had a headache. “The fact of it is, right now, it’s _simple_. Hawke doesn’t _want_ to heal.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Varric asked cautiously.

“She didn’t fight, Varric.” Anders lowered his voice again and shook his head. “I saw the whole damned thing. Didn’t raise a hand in defence at all, she could have fought them off even unarmed but – she _let_ that bandit run her through.”

“No, she-”

“And now she’s refusing potions, I can _feel_ the resistance in her body as if it’s trying to stop me from healing her. If it keeps going like this I won’t be able to help, I can’t keep her alive like this. So when you stand there and say it’s complicated, that whatever happened you need to keep secret, I’m telling you now that it’s fucking _simple_.” Anders was nearly yelling now, his finger pointedly jabbing into the shorter man’s chest as he made his point.

Varric winced at the tone of the mage’s voice and rubbed the palms of his hands over his face with a frustrated growl, Anders watched on impatiently, crossing his arms over his chest.

“We fought.” Varric said and turned to pace away from the other man. “We had been drinking but that doesn’t give the excuse really. I said some things – I was an asshole.”

“What did you say?” Anders asked coldly and Varric shook his head.

“A lot. Too much. I questioned her judgement, blamed her actions on Bethany’s death.” He thumped a nearby table lightly and resumed his pacing. “Called her – Maker, I called her a whore to her face.”

“Andraste’s tits Varric.” Anders scolded him. “You know how highly she thinks of you, what possessed you to act like that? Especially after she’s been held by the Qunari.”

“I don’t know.” He said plaintively. “Honestly, my mouth was running off before my brain could catch up. Didn’t even think about going after her. If you hadn’t been there-” Varric let the possible ramification hang in the air between them. “I’m an arse.” He said regretfully.

“Yes you are.” Anders agreed without sympathy. “And you’re going to fix this.” Varric nodded to Anders with a reluctant promise before glancing over to where Hawke was laying, his eyebrows raising when he realised she was watching them.

Varric stepped forward slowly, cautiously before sinking onto a chair that was beside her cot, a worried smile playing across his features for a moment before he swallowed thickly. 

“Hey.” He said to her and she didn’t respond, her chest felt tight as she watched him, her mouth dry. She couldn’t remember the last time she drank water and didn’t care. Varric moved his hand up slowly, carefully resting it on hers where it lay but Hawke didn’t want the touch, the comfort. She pulled her hand away sharply, rolling onto her side even though it hurt her physically to do so, she couldn’t look at him. Back turned she stared at the wall.

Anders sighed heavily before he walked over, kneeling by the cot on the side that Hawke was facing. He pushed the hair from her face, feeling for the fever that was still causing concern.

“Just go, Varric.” Anders said with bitter disappointment.

“But-” Varric began to protest but the sharp shake of Anders' head stopped him before he could begin. Reluctantly Varric stood, giving Hawke a quick squeeze on her shoulder before he walked across the clinic and out of the door.

“I’m sorry, Grae.” Anders said softly before pushing the blanket from her waist to check the bandage on her stomach, satisfied with what he saw he pressed his arm beneath her torso, moving her to sit up and lean against the wall even though it was clear that she didn’t want to comply. Hawke wouldn’t have either if she had the energy to resist. As it was she barely had the energy to keep her eyes open.

Anders picked up a cup of water from a table beside them and held it to her lips. She was about to protest, say that she didn’t need his help for such a simple task but as she raised her hand to take the cup it didn’t make it far, falling against his forearm and gripping onto it weakly. He even had to support her head gently.

The water was cool, amazingly refreshing against the dryness of her throat but that didn’t stop her from somehow swallowing wrong and falling into a fit of coughing. Anders was patient, holding her still as she coughed and preventing her from doing any more damage to herself. It wasn’t the first clue she had that he had a compassionate and patient bedside manner, it was just sometimes hard to see when she dragged him all over the Free Marches.

He smiled and it was honest, not a faked _everything is fine_ smile more of a _good you survived drinking water_ smile. He placed the cup back and held her hand as she looked around the room, her head rolling against the wooden wall.

“I should have gone with you.” He said softly after a moment of silence, he squeezed her hand in his and looked down to them, his shoulders slumping and brow furrowed. “If I had just insisted and went with you into the Deep Roads, Bethany might have made it out. But I was too much of a coward to do that, not much of a Grey Warden am I?”

Hawke didn’t respond but she did think about the possibility. If he had been there would Bethany be alive? Maybe. But she still would have been a mage in a city that knew what she was. The Templars still would have taken her in the end. Besides, she didn’t think that a healer, even one as good as Anders, could have cured blight-sickness. In the end she squeezed his hand, which seemed to surprise him a little, and he raised it up to press his lips against her knuckles gently.

 

With a bit of coercion Anders managed to get Hawke to eat some kind of broth that was probably good for her but didn’t feel like it at the time and drink more water before she passed out again, she was staying awake longer, but sure as shit didn’t _feel_ like she was getting better.

Each time she awoke it was the next day, judging by the growth of stubble of Anders’ jaw and the occasional change of clothing. And each day someone would arrive, either asking about her or asking for help from the mage. Aveline came by when she was awake, but the lack of response from Hawke urged Anders to ask Aveline to come back another day, to which she very reluctantly agreed to.

Another day Merrill arrived, a cheerful smile on her face when she saw that Hawke was awake. But when Hawke raised her hand to Anders who held it gently she shook her head, prompting a heavy sigh from him and a request that Merrill come back later, just like all the others.

 

A week or more had passed and Hawke had barely enough strength to sit up for a few minutes or stagger over to the latrine with assistance. Her progress was slow but Anders was quick to point out that she would heal easier if she would accept his help.

“I’m not going to give up on you.” Anders said as he helped her back into the cot and sat her against the wall, pulling the blanket over her hips and legs. “But I’m just saying that if you were healing better I could actually fill up the tub and you could bathe properly, wiping you down only does so much for smell in Darktown.” He smiled at her, a mischievous smirk that put a shine in his eyes. “I’m pretty sure you just like me giving you sponge baths.” She gave him a half smile, pawing at his forearm and giving it an affectionate squeeze as she sighed and closed her eyes. He patted her hand briefly before shifting and unwinding the long bandage that wrapped around her waist.

 _Angry_ was probably the best way to describe the wound that cut her from the top of her belly button and up four inches. The stitches were dark against the swollen flesh and Anders let out a sigh as he looked at it.

“Lean forward.” He insisted and she complied as much as she could but she still needed his arm to brace across her shoulders, supporting her weight as he pulled the second bandage clear of the exit wound on her back. She clung onto his arm, leaning forward was painful and she muffled a whimper into the fabric of his robes as he cast a spell over her back and replaced the old bandage with a new one using one hand.

Settling her back he raised both hands over her stomach, the blue light of his magic cascading onto her skin as he tried to heal her, a sweat breaking on his brow. A minute later he stopped, catching himself on the edges of the cot as he slumped in exhaustion. He was breathing hard, shaking as he recovered.

“Come on, Hawke.” He said in tired annoyance as he slipped his hand into hers, squeezing tightly. “I promise, whatever you’re worried about, whatever the reason why you’re resisting, I’m going to help you. Your friends are going to help you. You _don’t_ need to do this.” He bowed his head and let out a broken sigh, his shoulders hitching as if he were suppressing a sob.

Hawke gently raked her fingers through his hair, urging him to rest his forehead on her thigh as she ran her fingertips along his hairline. She noticed, not for the first time, the dark circles under his eyes and the way his lips cracked and bled. He was paler and clearly exhausted and Hawke felt nothing but a pang of selfish guilt that she was putting him through this.

A few minutes later and Anders had fallen asleep with his head against her thigh, she knew she should wake him, that sleeping hunched over wouldn’t be good for him and that he’d wake up pained. Not to mention that sitting up was exhausting and putting a pressure on her abdomen that was growing to be painful but she didn’t wake him. He needed to sleep and for the first time in a while she welcomed the feeling of someone being close to her.

 

Something cold and sharp was tapping at her collarbone, the discomfort of it enough to jerk her awake. She was still sitting up, Anders was still asleep on her leg, but someone else was standing next to her, someone she didn’t recognise.

What she did recognise was the antivan-style short sword that was hovering close to her neck in a warning and the red and brown bandit colours of the dockside gangs that the two men prominently displayed on their clothing. Hawke looked to Anders who was still on her leg, the second man behind him with a dagger drawn.

“Wake him up.” The first man, tall and bulky with dark hair ordered the second who looked eerily similar. The second grabbed Anders’ tied back hair and wrenched, startling him awake as he grunted in a surprised pain. His head was wrenched back far enough to expose his throat, the dagger resting just beneath his Adams apple as it bobbed from a reflexive swallow.

“Who the fuck are you?” Anders growled at the men who gave a mirror image sneer down at them. “There’s no gold here, anyone on the streets can tell you that.”

“We’ve already asked.” The first said. “Unfortunately for you that’s not our mission tonight.”  
  
“You are.” The second said before tugging on Anders’ hair in a manner that would be considered playful if he hadn’t been pressing a dagger to the mage’s throat.

“I had my reservations about killing the Darktown Healer.” The first said with contemplation. “I grew up on these streets, I know what you’re doing here is good.”

“But then we saw that your friend survived.” The second continued the story as he leered at Hawke. “And damn that bounty the Coterie put on you is just too good to resist.”

“Then are you mercenaries or a part of that shitty dockside gang?” Anders asked with a strain.

“If we’re going to kill someone I’d prefer that any witnesses report a gang than two assassins.” The first said. “Gang activities tend to get swept under the rug in this town, but _assassins_ , well, that get the guard all riled up and bloodthirsty.”

“We’ll pay you to fuck off.” Anders said flatly and they booth shook their heads.

“You ain’t got no money.” The second said. “And your friend has all of hers tied up until that dwarf clears it. That kind of request requires an upfront payment.”

“Besides.” the first smiled at Hawke, the tip of his sword dragging lower down her chest. “I doubt your friend is so keen to make that deal.” He sat on the edge of the cot, sword still lightly piercing her skin as he leaned in close. “Heard you got all the fight knocked out of you. That sweet little sister of yours died and you can’t take the heat anymore.” The second laughed cruelly as Hawke clenched her fist into the blanket.

“Guess you’re shit out of luck mage.” The second sneered. “Waste all your energy on healing this bitch and now you’re gonna die because of her.”

For the first time since waking up in the clinic Hawke felt something other than an apathetic longing for death. She felt _rage_. Rage for the men who threatened her friend, rage for herself for letting things fall so far. Pure and unfettered _rage._

It was enough to push the adrenalin up and through her veins, enough to give herself that fighting chance as she pushed back against the wooden wall and slapped the blade of the sword to one side before lunging forward and grabbing at the first man’s thick hair and yanking it down to hit his head against the table beside her.

She hit his head against the corner of the table two, three times until he went limp, the splatter of blood and something thicker reaching as far as the blanket near Anders. She picked the sword up and thrust it at the second man who was turning an awful shade of grey-blue as he twitched and jolted, Justice has burst forth from wherever he rested in Anders’ mind and grabbed the man’s arm, whatever spell he was using didn’t look pleasant.

The sword sunk deep into the second man’s chest and only then did Justice retreat, leaving Anders to shake his head and pant heavily as Hawke let go of the sword and watched the mercenary drop to the floor heavily.

Reaching out Hawke gripped onto the shoulder of his robe, looking him over as her heart thudded in panic. She pressed her hand against his cheek and made him look at her, he just gave a tired smile.

The door burst open and Hawke turned quickly to see Aveline striding in with Isabela and Merrill in tow, weapons drawn and tension high as they looked around the clinic.

“It’s alright.” Anders called to them as Hawke straightened herself and touched at her stomach gingerly, it hurt more than usual. Anders stood and pulled from Hawke who let him go reluctantly, walking stiffly over to Aveline to apprise her of the situation.

Hawke slumped back onto the wall and took a deep breath, looking down she pulled her hand away gently from the bandage, it had soaked through with blood to stain her fingers. She must have ripped the stitches.

“A street urchin cornered me in Lowtown and told me to get here quickly.” Aveline said loudly as she crossed her arms over her chest, her sword sheathed now that there was no danger. “I managed to find these two along the way.”

“A minute earlier would have been great.” Anders teased her. “But we handled it.”

“Just like you handle your-”

“Enough.” Aveline cut off Isabela’s remark and the pirate rolled her eyes. “Either of you injured?”

“No.” Anders shook his head.

“Yes.” Hawke said and the words were like sandpaper against her throat, ragged and brittle. Anders turned quickly at her voice, eyes a little wide before near sprinting across the room to stop beside her cot.

Hawke lifted her hand to show the wound that was freely bleeding now, the blood seeping down her skin slowly. Anders cursed and ordered Aveline to hold her steady as he rushed to pull some vials from the shelf.

More footsteps and Hawke could see Varric walking in holding Bianca, glancing around in confusion at the bodies on the floor and the ruckus caused by the mage.

Anders was gentle with cutting away the bandage, swearing profusely as he inspected it quickly and pressed a fresh bandage to it to slow the bleeding.

“I can’t heal this.” He rasped as he shook his head. “Justice used up all my energy.” He uncorked a vial with his teeth and held it to her lips, spitting the cork out onto the floor to roll away. “Drink Grae.” Hawke swallowed thickly as she looked at the bright red liquid and then to Anders who was pleading with his eyes.

She relented and opened her mouth, letting him gently tip the potion past her lips. It thrummed as she drank it, the muscles in her stomach tightening as it began to heal. A second vial was consumed and she breathed heavily as the medicine coursed through her. The bleeding slowed to a point where Anders was satisfied enough to begin stitching her back together, but not before Hawke was tilting his head up to inspect his throat.

“Grae, I’m _fine_.” Anders tried to sound annoyed but the huff of laughter at the end did nothing to convince her. He grabbed her hand and brought it to his lips, letting them linger there for a moment longer than normal, long enough to make a couple of onlookers shift uncomfortably. “I’m going to have to put you to sleep so I can stitch you back together.” He said and she shook her head warily to which he nodded in contradiction.

“Yes, Grae.” He insisted before leaning down to press his forehead against hers, his eyes squeezing shut as he suppressed a sigh. He opened his mouth to say something but thought better of it, instead pressing a kiss to her cheekbone and then two fingers to her forehead, knocking her unconscious immediately.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After working on Sight and Silence for so long it feels weird to be writing Hawke again. I'll definitely be editing and fixing this story up, reading over older work is always awful. I'm so sorry I put you all through this. :P


	16. Chapter 16

Muffled whimpering and sobs emanated from her side where cold hands clutched at her wrist and the wet heat of breath rolled over her fingers in puffs. The daylight was bright against her eyelids which were slow to open, the fetid heat and stink of Darktown unable to be washed away despite its open view to the inlet.

“She’s recovering, Leandra.” Aveline said with compassion from near the foot of the bed. “Slowly, but certainly on her way.”

“Who would do this?” Leandra sobbed. “Was it Athenril? Our debt to her was paid!”

“Coterie.” Aveline said reluctantly. “They had a bounty on her head and some thugs tried to collect. The City Guard are looking into it but the investigation is… difficult.”

“I thought the Qunari were protecting her!” Leandra said indignantly and Hawke could recognise the tone through her sedated haze. Aveline huffed with a patience of someone who dealt with this kind of situation often.

“They had let her go that day-” Aveline began but her voice cut off.

“It’s my fault.” Varric’s quiet, rough voice came from the far side of the room, steadily moving closer with his footsteps. “I’ve got no excuse, she was under my roof when this happened. I’m sorry Leandra.”

“What-” Leandra shook her head, her hair brushing along Hawke’s arm. “What does that mean?”

“It means I’m hard to kill.” Hawke rasped and the room went quiet for a moment as she opened her eyes and blinked against the light. “Or just too stubborn to die.” Leandra’s shocked sound preceded her hands that skirted over Hawke’s forehead, brushing away hair before she leaned down to kiss her forehead with fresh tears streaking down her cheek.

“Thank Andraste.” Leandra praised as Hawke let herself be cradled, still too tired and overwhelmed to do much about it. Anders knelt on the opposite side of the cot, fingers finding the pulse on her wrist to track her heartbeat and flashed her a tight smile.

“Thank Anders.” Hawke said and it was barely a moment before Leandra reached out and clasped his hand, holding it to her in thanks. The movement pulling Anders into them to which he smiled awkwardly and tried to detangle himself.

“Perhaps we should let Hawke rest.” Varric suggested and walked to Leandra. “We need to finish getting you settled in and then I’m sure in a day or two we can move Hawke into the estate.”

“Estate?” Hawke asked and Leandra gave her a smile.

“Varric has helped us reclaim the Amell Estate in Hightown.” Varric shot Hawke a sad smile and seemed relieved when she returned it. “Your uncle couldn’t be happier to have us out of his home and we’re finally going back into our rightful one.”

“As long as that’s okay with you.” Varric interjected. “I didn’t want to presume but you had talked about it before and I wanted to do something to make up for – you know.”

“It’s fine, Varric.” Hawke rasped. “I appreciate it. Thank you.” He smiled and nodded before urging Leandra to stand, she did so with a squeeze of Hawke’s hand and a smile to Anders before being led out of the clinic.

 

Night had fallen and Hawke was drifting in and out of sleep, managing to stay alert enough to eat some kind of soup of Anders’ making. It wasn’t terrible, but the ingredients were questionable and according to her carer it was immensely healthy and exactly what she needed to eat.

The door opening loudly nearly startled the both of them and Anders spun on his heels at the intruder – stopping dead when he saw the bulk of a Sten step through and lead the way for the Arishok.

“We’re closed,” Anders said cautiously and the Arishok looked him over as if he were a curious looking bug. The Arishok continued his casual gait until he reached Hawke’s bedside, pulling a small stool to sit on it looked as if it would break under the bulk of him.

“Shanedan, Hawke.” He rumbled and Hawke nodded to him, her hand subconsciously resting on the bandages of her stomach. “I believe much has transpired since I spoke with you last, I am pleased to see you have recovered.”

“She’s not completely healed-” Anders began but was cut short when the Arishok held up his hand for silence.

“Have you come to scold me?” Hawke asked and he gave her a queer smile.

“I have come to see you reforged.” He said simply and Hawke tried to sit up further, struggling for only a moment before Anders was beside her and helping her to sit upright.

“Reforged? No more riddles please.” Hawke sighed and shook her head, the Arishok gave her a simple nod.

“You were broken, Hawke. I told you this. Our care for you was not as effective as I had hoped, but you reached your own point of rebirth – you are now ready for the trials to come.” The Arishok stood and patted her on the shoulder once before turning and beginning to leave. “When you are ready for battle again come to my compound, I have a task for you.” He said in a rumble before leaving the clinic with the Sten following close behind.

“Is it just me or is he purposely cryptic?” Anders murmured to her and she let herself lean on him, humming in agreement as he placed a kiss on her forehead. “Well then Serah Hawke, _are_ you ready for the trials to come?”

“I think so.” She looked up at him and ran her fingers through the feathers of his coat. “But there is something I need to do first.”

“Oh?” His smile twitched the corners of his mouth. “Anything I can assist with?”

“Yes.” She said and pulled him down by his neck, pausing for the briefest moment to watch his smile reach his eyes before pressing her lips against his in a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally reached the end of the prequel! Hooray! I mean, you know I can basically go on forever but it was time to wrap this story up. Thank you for reading <3


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